


31 Day Shevine Challenge

by allouette



Category: The Voice (US) RPF, The Voice RPF
Genre: 31 day otp challenge, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, First Kiss, Fluff, Infidelity, M/M, PWP, Recreational Drug Use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-04 18:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 31
Words: 44,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3081989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allouette/pseuds/allouette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series a fics/ficlets written for 31 prompts, one for every day in the month of January.</p><p>List of prompts can be found <a href="http://adamandblake.tumblr.com/post/106153627177/31-day-otp-challenge-shevine-style">here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day One - Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake looks at him like Adam just handed him the whole world, takes his hand and squeezes, holds on tight.

He doesn’t even think about it. Just reaches back and grabs Blake’s hand, hooks their fingers together. The flashbulbs going off from every angle in front of them are blinding all of a sudden.

“Kicking the bromance up a notch?” is one of the first questions they get asked, and it’s almost enough to make Adam regret doing it.

“Something like that, yeah,” he replies.

But Blake’s face. 

Blake looks at him like Adam just handed him the whole world, takes his hand and squeezes, holds on tight. Adam’s heart flip-flops in his chest and he has to remind himself where they are before he does something completely inappropriate. Even more inappropriate. 

That face alone makes any and all stupid questions they might receive worth it.

“What’re you doin’?” Blake leans in to whisper in his ear as he brings their joined hands up into clear view for emphasis. More blinding flashbulbs. Ridiculous. For a second, Adam thinks Blake is going to kiss his hand, but he doesn’t.

Adam simply shrugs and smiles for the cameras.

They hold hands for close to a minute as they walk down the red carpet until Adam decides that’s probably enough, they’re pushing it as it is. He gives Blake a look and they both start laughing as they let go, wiping their hands on respective pants legs before they move on. If they stand a little bit too close the rest of the way down the red carpet, it can’t be helped. Gravitational pull and whatnot.

“Have you heard that they say holding hands can be more intimate than… other things?”

“Really? Who says that?” Adam asks the random reporter currently holding a microphone in his face, then adds, “You know what, it’s cool, it’s all fine. Me and him, we’re good like that. If we want to hold hands, so what, who’s going to stop us, right?”

The whole time Adam is rambling, Blake is grinning at him like an idiot in the background, and it takes all of Adam’s self control to stop himself from grinning, too. He cracks a little, a ghost of a smile flickering across his face, and it’s obvious when his gaze keeps flicking back to Blake. He’s proud of himself for not losing it completely since Blake is really good at making him do that; it’s so beyond stupid the power Blake has over him. 

“You know, if we ever get found out, it’s gonna be because of your face,” he says as they head into the studio.

“My face?” Blake echoes with a laugh.

“Yes, because it’s stupid.” 

There’s a lot about their relationship that is stupid, really.

But there are also people around now and Adam can’t say, “yes because I love it so much,” “yes because god Blake sometimes your feelings are written all over it, you should work on that,” “yes because sometimes when you look at me I can’t remember how to breathe.”

“It’ll be because of that and not any of the other dumb stuff we’ve done?”

“Pretty much.”

Blake laughs again and shakes his head. They get to a stopping point in the hallway where it’s obvious they’re going to go in opposite directions, and Adam really, really wants to kiss him right now. It’s painfully obvious with the way he can’t stop looking at Blake’s mouth, and he knows Blake knows because he starts grinning again. Adam wants to kiss him and punch him. Instead he reaches out, hooks Blake’s pinky finger with his own for a second.

“I’ll be in your trailer in a few after make up makes me all beautiful.”

He can tell Blake rolls his eyes even though his gaze is on their hands. “Right because you need all the help you can get in that department.”

“Gotta make sure you don’t get tired of looking at me somehow. Make me a drink, nothing pink!” Adam says and finally pulls himself away. He chances a glance back when he’s halfway down the hall and isn’t surprised at all to find Blake watching him walk away.


	2. Day Two - Cuddling/Spooning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He buys a new couch because he needs a new couch. It has nothing to do with Blake and the fact that he doesn’t fit quite right on the old one.

Adam would never admit it if anyone asked him. The thought is absurd. 

He buys a new couch because he needs a new couch. It has nothing to do with Blake and the fact that he doesn’t fit quite right on the old one. And the timing of it is merely a coincidence, if one were to look closely enough, the new couch appearing shortly after the beginning of their relationship. 

The two things are not at all connected in any way whatsoever is what Adam would say, basically.

It doesn’t matter that one of his favorite things has become finding Blake sprawled out on the couch and then finding the best way to situate himself on there, too. Usually he ends up half on top of Blake, half tucked against the back of the couch; it would take a nuclear incident to get him to move once he’s settled.

It’s just so easy to press his face against Blake’s neck, let himself get enveloped in the heat from Blake’s body, focusing on the soft and steady _thump thump_ of Blake’s heartbeat--

“Are you fallin’ asleep?”

“Mm, no, why’s it matter?” Adam mumbles, nuzzling his face against soft, worn cotton.

“’Cause I’m gettin’ a little tired of carrying your ass to bed, that’s why.”

Adam makes a noise meant to convey many things: dismissal, rebuttal, a general lack of caring to name a few. He hears the familiar _snick_ of Blake unlocking his phone, and a few moments later there are long fingers tangling in his hair. Adam hums his approval because yes, good, if Blake wants to pet him while he feeds his social media and internet addiction, more power to him. 

As soon as Blake’s fingers start to move, a slow back and forth against Adam’s scalp, it leads to him stretching his body in his comfortable little nook, pressing his head into Blake’s touch. He melts against Blake again, completely boneless and blissed out, one of his legs sliding between Blake’s longer set. 

It’s all Blake’s fault that he’s quickly lulled to sleep, those skilled fingers sliding through his hair, down along the back of his neck, the touch going from soft and barely there to just the right amount of pressure to feel like a massage. He’s out in a matter of minutes, probably only a few, his senses filled with everything Blake. 

“Are you asleep?”

Adam’s eyes spring open, his body jerking as he trips right back into consciousness.

“Huh- wha- no 'm not.”

Blake chuckles and reaches back behind his head to set his phone down on the end table. “Let’s just go to bed if you’re that tired.”

Adam shakes his head, nuzzling against Blake’s chest, his neck, then up to press a warm kiss to the curve of his jaw. “Stay here for a while,” he murmurs softly, curling his fingers in Blake’s shirt.

“You really wanna sleep on the couch?”

“Mm.”

Blake does his best to manipulate Adam into a more comfortable position; one of his legs is starting to fall asleep and regardless of how nice the couch is, Blake knows his back will be bitching at him later if they sleep like that for long. He’d rather deal with all of the shifting around now rather than feeling like an old, worn out man later on.

“I like how you’re pretendin’ to be asleep right now just to make this more difficult.”

He tries to resist but it’s impossible, pressing a growing smile into Blake’s shoulder as Adam tangles their legs together again. “Maybe I like it when you manhandle me,” he mumbles, then tips his head back, just enough to get a look at Blake’s face.

“Right. How could I forget?”

Adam leans in, pressing a soft kiss to Blake’s mouth. “I don’t mind having opportunities to remind you.”

Blake’s smile is fond before he kisses Adam again, one of his hands coming up to thread his fingers through Adam’s hair. It’s all too easy to give in to this indulgence for a few long moments, but then Adam is pulling away with a slight smirk, bringing one finger up to press against Blake’s lips.

“Shh. Sleeping,” Adam says, tucking himself back into Blake’s body in all the right ways, grinning faintly to himself at the look on Blake’s face.

Fond and exasperated. Perfect.


	3. Day Three - Watching a Movie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a giant elephant in the room, this thing that they both know is there but neither of them want to actually bring up. _Sex_. They could have sex today, are more than likely going to, it's just a matter of when and how, and they know they're both thinking about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one revisits my high school AU, [Going Wild Child](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1046301), so you might want to read that one first if you haven't already! Also, as for the prompt, just go with me on this one, okay? Also please note the rating change.

They made an agreement weeks before Christmas not to exchange gifts; it means more to them to save the money for their future than to buy each other a video game that will be obsolete in a few months time, something else that will end up kicked under the bed and forgotten. So when Christmas Eve rolls around and Adam climbs through Blake's window carrying a gift bag, Blake is pretty surprised.

“You weren't supposed to--” Blake starts to say, but Adam stops him.

“Just wait,” he says and hands Blake the green and red bag with silver bells on it.

Blake removes the tissue paper from the bag and looks inside; the blush that quickly spreads across his face is priceless, so is him trying to hide it with a laugh, and all he can really say is, “ _oh my god_. Adam, what the hell?”

Because Adam just gave him condoms and lube for Christmas, and it has to be a gag gift, right? Adam thinks he's hilarious, which he is, he makes Blake laugh all the time but jesus.

“Ha fuckin’ ha,” Blake says, setting the bag aside.

“Interesting choice of words. That gift serves two purposes. The first being it brings me great joy to see you blush like that, seriously, you have no idea,” Adam says with a grin because he just can't help himself. But then he sort of shakes himself, gets a little more serious. “The second is this: my family is going out of town for New Year's, only I'm not, I'll be home by myself, and I was thinking that I'd really like you to be my first. You know, if you're okay with that.”

Blake blinks at him and swallows hard, his mouth suddenly gone dry. “Oh,” he says, and there's no missing the way his voice is pitched down low. “Wow. I mean… Really?”

“Really. But only if you want to, and it's not going to hurt my feelings if you aren't ready,” Adam explains, sitting down next to Blake on the bed. “I just thought it would be the perfect time since we would be alone, and we wouldn't have to worry about interruptions or... Well, anything at all, really. It would just be the two of us.”

Blake thinks about that for a few moments. He's terrified to tell the truth, the thought of it alone is pretty fucking scary, but god, he _wants_. He wants so much. He licks his lips and nods a little, looking over at Adam as he says, “okay. I want to.”

Adam grins faintly, holding Blake's gaze. “Yeah?”

Blake smiles back, small and almost shy. “Yeah.”

“Cool. Better start watching some porn, learn a few things,” he says, then laughs at the look on Blake’s face. “Oh my _god_ , how are you still blushing after half of the shit I've said to you over the past couple of months? I don't get it.”

“Shut up,” Blake says and shoves Adam right off the bed. He lands in a hysterical heap on the floor, and Blake follows him right down, holding himself up over Adam on his hands and knees. “Why you gotta be such a jackass?” he asks as Adam's laughter starts to die out.

“Whatever, you love it.”

Blake just shakes his head with a smile because he can’t even dignify that with a verbal response, leaning in to press their mouths together. 

*** 

The morning Adam's family is due to leave for their vacation, his mom knocks on his bedroom door and walks in to find him and Blake sprawled out on the floor at the foot of the bed, Xbox controllers in hand. The both of them are still dressed for bed in pajama pants and worn t-shirts, hair in complete disarray. She thinks nothing of finding Blake in Adam's room first thing in the morning; it's hardly the first time, so reminiscent of the way things were when they were kids. Blake's coat and shoes are on the floor by the window, and even though she has no idea how long they have been there, she is just glad they managed to get their friendship back.

“Adam, we're leaving here shortly,” she says, and it doesn't escape her notice that neither of them look away from the tv. “I know we've discussed the rules already--”

“Multiple times. Thoroughly.”

“Adam.”

“Mom, this is all we're going to be doing. What you see is what you get, I promise. No wild parties, no trashing the house, no crazy teenage antics. Just me and Blake and the Xbox. Maybe we'll change things up and go play over at his house, who knows.”

She lets out a sigh, eyeing the empty, leftover pie tins sitting between the two of them, no doubt the remnants of their breakfast. “Okay. I told you before that I trust you, and I do. Don't forget to feed and walk the dog. And for the love of god, eat some real food every once in a while.”

“Dog. Real food. Got it,” Adam says, taking one of his hands off the controller long enough to give his mom a thumbs up. Then he's squawking, “ _dude_!” and Blake is cackling and his mom throws her hands up before she turns to walk away.

“Have fun on your trip, Mrs. Levine!” Blake calls after her right before the door closes.

Their focus stays on the game until they hear the front door open and close two or three times, until it doesn't open again. The house goes silent beyond Adam's door, and it doesn't take long for his attention to stray from the game. Twenty, thirty minutes pass at the most before Blake is letting out a sigh because Adam has just died for the sixth time in a row, looking over at him.

“You're not even trying anymore, are you?”

“I'm sorry!” Adam says, tossing his controller aside. “It's not on purpose, my mind just keeps wandering.”

There's a giant elephant in the room, this thing that they both know is there but neither of them want to actually bring up. _Sex_. They could have sex today, are more than likely going to, it's just a matter of when and how, and they know they're both thinking about it. It would be impossible not to. 

Blake finally pushes himself up to stand, more than determined to keep everything as normal as possible, stretching his back until he feels it pop. He grabs his phone off the bed and checks the time, turns to Adam to ask, “you hungry?”

Adam just shrugs as he turns off the Xbox, then the TV, collecting the empty pie tins from the floor before he forgets about them and the dog gets to them. “I could eat.”

“Tell you want. I'll run home, take a shower, then I'll go grab us some food and we can watch a movie or something. Sound good?”

“Sure,” Adam agrees, watching as Blake stuffs his feet into his shoes and pulls on his jacket. 

It's almost an hour later when Adam hears the rumbling of Blake's truck in his driveway. It really is ridiculous how loud that stupid thing is. He's opening the front door just as Blake is lifting his hand to knock, a gust of cold air rushing in with him, and Adam shivers before he can close and lock the door behind him. There's a large bag in Blake's arm that smells like heaven and after grabbing a couple of drinks from the fridge, they set up camp around the coffee table to chow down. Adam is pretty sure his mom meant for him to live off of something other than pop tarts and Doritos for the next few days, so take out totally counts as real food in his eyes and it is awesome. 

Once the food has been devoured and the trash thrown away, Adam bundles up in a hoodie and a coat, putting on his shoes. They rig Frankie up in her harness and clip on her leash to take her for a walk around the neighborhood; it's getting colder outside, the weather slowly starting to go downhill as the clouds roll in, and they may not be able to do more than let her out in the backyard for a minute or two later on. 

“How far are we gonna go?” Blake asks; they've only been walking for ten minutes or so, and he's already zipping up his coat all the way, pulling his sleeves down over his hands.

“We usually walk for forty-five minutes to an hour, but I don't think the weather's going to hold up for that. Why, somewhere else you'd rather be?” Adam asks with a grin, bumping his hip against Blake's.

Blake rolls his eyes because no, he actually wasn't thinking about that, just that he's freezing his balls off and wouldn't that be unfortunate? “Whatever,” he says, shoving his covered hands into the pockets of his coat. “Ideas for movies to watch when we get back?”

“I don't know, what do you want to watch?”

“I should've known you'd throw it right back to me. I don't know, I haven't seen the latest Iron Man yet, if you have that one… wait, why'd you stop walking?” Blake asks because Adam has stopped dead in his tracks a few feet back and he's staring at Blake like he's a complete stranger.

“You-- You haven't seen that yet?” he asks like the words physically pain him to speak out loud. “How is that possible? I suddenly feel like I don't even know you anymore.”

Blake laughs at the dramatics because it's so completely Adam, shrugging a shoulder. “I don't know, I just haven't. I wanted to, but… I don't know.”

“I'm totally questioning everything about our friendship right now, I hope you realize that,” Adam says as he starts walking again. "Dude, it's _Iron Man_. What’s—I mean, why the fuck would you _not_? Please tell me you saw The Avengers. I'd really hate to have to dump you right now.”

“You're damn right I saw The Avengers. Who the hell do you think I am?”

“I just had to make sure because you scared me there for a second.”

They fall quiet for a few moments, the only sound coming from the scrape of their shoes against the road and the jingle of the tags on Frankie's collar. When Blake finally speaks again, he's reaching over to drape his arm across Adam's shoulders, his hand still tucked into the sleeve. “I remember that summer, you know. Before freshman year. Iron Man 2 came out right before school ended and we saw it how many times in the theater? It had to've been a dozen, right? Over half of them we snuck into.” Adam smiles at that, tucking himself closer into Blake's side. “It didn't feel right watching Avengers without you. It didn't feel right watching any of those movies without you. It was too much of an _our_ thing. I guess that's why I never saw the other one.”

Adam looks up at him, thinks about it for a second before he's pressing a kiss to the corner of Blake's mouth. It's quick and barely there, but it's a kiss in public all the same. They walk for a few more minutes before turning around, and they're almost back to Adam's house when the drizzling rain starts. It's a mad dash the rest of the way because neither of them wants to get soaked out in the freezing cold. Frankie is excited, thinking they're playing some kind of new game and she barks happily the whole way back. By the time they're stumbling through Adam's front door, they're out of breath and a little damp, faces red from the cold and the exertion.

As soon as the door is locked and Frankie is freed from her harness, Adam is pulling Blake in for a kiss. Cold lips warm quickly, their noses still frozen when they touch; it makes Adam smile into the kiss, and he tucks equally cold hands into Blake's coat, pressing even closer. He starts to think this could be leading somewhere good when Blake opens for him and practically sucks on his tongue, but when they pull away for air, Blake steps away completely.

“Movie?” he asks as he unzips his coat.

“Yeah,” Adam breathes out, nodding a little as he drags a hand through his hair. He bumps up the heat just slightly and makes sure the dog is taken care of with a couple of treats before he and Blake settle in his room in front of the TV. They kick off their shoes, remove excess layers, and as the movie is loading, Adam digs in his closet for his candy stash. He tosses a couple of bags of various brightly colored sugary snacks onto the bed, then crawls up, sitting next to Blake.

“Is there a reason you hide that in your closet?”

“Yeah, 'cause my little brother will hound me for it and eat it all if he knew I had it. Plus, I usually can't remember where it is if I'm high so I can't eat it all at one time, but that hasn't happened in a long time, so.”

Blake snorts out a laugh and grabs a handful of jellybeans, watches as Adam shifts around to settle back against his chest as the movie starts. Blake gets sucked in instantly; he almost feels like they’ve gone back in time (minus the cuddling), the only thing missing being their old, faded Marvel comics t-shirts and posters on the walls. It’s like one of the old missing pieces of their friendship has clicked back into place, and the thought makes his arms tighten around Adam just a little bit more.

He has no idea when it happens, when Adam's comments stop coming and his own laughter is the only one he hears but by the time the movie ends, Adam is curled up against his chest sound asleep. It's pretty damn adorable, actually, and Blake waits until the extra scene after the credits to wake him up, trailing his fingers down along the side of Adam's face, his jaw, his eyes finally fluttering open as Blake's thumb sweeps over his bottom lip.

“Wha-- 'M awake. Is the movie over?” Adam asks, shifting the rest of the way onto his back.

“Yep,” Blake answers with a grin. “I like how you get to yell at me for not seein' it, then you get to sleep through half of it. How fair is that?”

“I've already seen it three times, it's plenty fair,” he says, then stretches long and hard, letting out a deep sigh as he settles down again. He catches Blake's gaze, sees the way Blake's eyes trail along his body, and he can tell by the way Blake is looking at him that this is it. This is that moment they have both been waiting for.

When Blake leans down to kiss him, Adam meets him halfway. It's slow and deep as soon as their lips touch; this part they're fucking good at, they could do this all day, making out like the horny teenagers they are until time ceases to exist. Adam wastes none of it getting his hands on bare skin, slipping them under Blake's shirt as he tugs Blake on top of him. 

“So who did it for you?” Adam asks as they pause momentarily to get Blake out of his shirt.

“What?”

“Was it Stark or Pepper that finally put you in the mood? You can say Stark, it’s okay. I wouldn’t blame you. Downey is pretty badass,” he says, hands smoothing down over Blake’s back after he loses his own t-shirt.

Blake just blinks down at him, head cocked to the side because _really_? “Why are you talking about this right now?”

“I can’t help it, I’m nervous okay. Give me a break.”

Blake cracks a smile and leans in to press another kiss to Adam’s lips, his voice soft when he speaks again. “I’m a little nervous, too.”

“Well, one of us needs to get unnervous so this doesn’t completely suck.”

“It’s not going to suck, don’t think about it like that,” Blake says, snagging one of Adam’s hands and hooking their fingers together. “It was you, by the way.”

“Huh?”

“You’re the one who did it for me.”

“Oh,” Adam breathes out. He feels himself relax just a little bit more, his body practically melting beneath Blake’s larger form. “That helps a lot.”

Blake kisses him again, and all words are lost for a while after that, lost to roaming hands and a long, long string of continuous kisses. They don’t have to waste time building arousal; it’s there from the moment their tongues touch, pulsing through their veins and setting them on fire. Pants are kicked off somewhere along the way, and as soon as Blake’s hand slides under the waistband of Adam’s boxers, he’s breaking away with a gasp, breathless.

“Did you bring the stuff? Tell me you brought the stuff,” Adam asks, taking a moment to try to catch his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest.

The look Blake gives him has _duh_ written all over it, and he tips his head toward the window he uses as his main entrance, his Christmas bag tucked into a corner next to a bookshelf. When he slides off of the bed to retrieve it, Adam realizes he didn’t even see him bring that in with him this morning; then again, he had been too preoccupied with setting up their video game and thoughts of what was to transpire later on that day.

Once Blake is back and that last layer of clothing is stripped away, the nerves return right along with the realization that this is _really happening_. It’s a slow progression after that, the lingering fear of pain refusing to leave the back of their minds, but they both want it too much to slam on the brakes completely. Blake comes close, almost does stop and pull away when the first grimace of discomfort crosses Adam’s face after that first slow push in, but Adam holds on tight, practically clinging to him.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he says, his jaw clenched for a moment, and they both ignore the slight waver in his voice. “Fingers and dick, not quite the same. Give me a second, I’ll be fine.”

Blake wants to laugh, but he’s concentrating too hard on trying to stay calm, or on calming down just a bit because everything in his brain is screaming _tight hot tight_ , and he wants this to be just as good for Adam, he really, really does but _fuck_.

As soon as Adam says okay, shifts underneath Blake and tells him to move, it all goes downhill very quickly after that. There’s no way it can last long, them being teenagers and it being their first time, but they try. The attempt is in vain in the end; it’s all just _too much_ \- too much sensation, too much desire, feelings too intense in every way possible. 

Everything feels a little too calm, when it’s over. They lay side by side as they catch their breath, sweat cooling on their skin. Words aren’t even possible for a few minutes, the comfortable silence they find themselves in lingering well after clean up has happened and they have settled again. Blake finally rolls his head to the side and looks at Adam with a lazy smile, reaching over for Adam’s hand.

“You good?”

Adam rolls his eyes, squeezes Blake’s fingers. “Sex just happened. I’m more than good.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d tell you if I wasn’t,” he says, shifting over to lay on his side. “I love you, you know.”

“More than Tony Stark?” Blake asks with a grin; he can’t help himself.

“Shut up.”

“Or is it just Robert Downey Jr. in general?”

“I actually really hate you,” Adam smiles as grabs for the pillow under his head, smacking Blake with it.

“It’s a serious question!”

“I changed my mind, I want my virginity back!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sex part was a giant cop out, I KNOW I'M SORRY, I'll make it up to everyone later.


	4. Day Four - On a Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a special playlist he put together just for this, one with the title _Adam_ , and once he gets to it, he puts it on shuffle and turns up the volume.

“I thought you said we were going on a date?”

“We are.”

Adam looks around, out the windows of Blake’s truck at their surroundings; they’re in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees and dirt and the occasional open field. Adam lost track of the last time they passed another car, and he hasn’t seen signs of houses or any kind of other buildings in a while.

“I’m a little confused.”

Blake just smiles. He digs his phone out of his pocket, one hand on the wheel, and plugs it in. There’s a special playlist he put together just for this, one with the title _Adam_ , and once he gets to it, he puts it on shuffle and turns up the volume. It’s by pure luck of the draw, the chance of the shuffle, that the first song that starts playing is by The Beatles. 

_“If I fell in love with you, would you promise to be true…”_

“Are you serious with this?” Adam asks. He’s amazed and he’s smiling, sliding over on the bench seat closer to Blake. 

“What can I say, you’re very inspiring.”

“Oh my god. This is probably one of the most surreal moments of my life - driving down some back road in Oklahoma blasting The Beatles. Only you could make this happen, Blake.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“No,” Adam says, shaking his head. “No, it’s not a bad thing. I’m definitely not complaining. You just… you never cease to amaze me, that’s all.”

Blake glances over at Adam with a blinding grin. “Well, I try.”

When the next song starts, Adam snorts, shooting Blake a look. “A Blake Shelton playlist would not be complete without a little Bublé, right? Did I steal you away from him, is he very sad?”

Blake can’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes. “This song is for you, will you shut up and listen?”

_“I've acted out my love in stages with ten thousand people watching but we're alone now and I'm singing this song for you…”_

“No pun intended?”

“ _Adam_ ,” Blake breathes, completely exasperated and if he didn’t have to keep most of his attention on driving, he would probably reach over and strangle him.

“I’m sorry, that was horrible, I’m sorry,” Adam leans in, pressing a kiss to the corner of Blake’s mouth. He lingers there, his forehead pressed to Blake’s temple as the song plays, his eyes closed. 

It’s touching, really, as the songs keep playing, one after another, how Adam can pick out Blake’s feelings in each of them. Even if it’s only one single line, the whole chorus, one verse, or in a couple of instances, the entire song, there’s something in each one that feels like it was ripped from Blake’s own head. Or heart. 

It’s the most beautiful and universally powerful thing about music. And as they drive down some long dirt road, Adam singing along with Come Away With Me, he knows, _he knows_ , that he could not love Blake any more, any harder if he tried. It’s just not possible. He’s so full of it right now, he feels like he might explode or combust or _something_ , it’s insane, and he never wants it to end. 

_“Come away with me and I’ll never stop loving you…”_


	5. Day Five - Kissing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam shifts forward in his seat, hands folded together. “You just made a very bold statement up on that stage tonight, man. Are you going to sit there and tell me that I didn't see what I am one hundred percent positive I know I saw?”
> 
> AKA where I am 100% convinced their relationship started and no one can tell me otherwise.

_We need to talk._

The text stares back at Blake, four little words that make his stomach twist and knot into a big ball of nerves. He looks around but doesn't see Adam anywhere; teams are mingling, Christina is cackling over something Cee Lo is saying, people are everywhere, but there's no sign of spiky hair or killer tattoos in the room. Blake slips his phone back into his pocket when Carson approaches with two glasses in hand. Their first live show had gone off without a hitch, every performance sounding better than during rehearsals, and they all just know, can already feel that it's going to be a huge success in terms of numbers. Blake thanks Carson for the drink and downs a big gulp as his eyes continue to scan the room.

“Have you seen Adam?”

“I think I saw him for a minute when we first got here, but not recently. If anyone can find him, I'm sure it'll be you,” Carson answers and Blake rolls his eyes, sets off to look for him.

He gets stopped a couple of times along the way, first by members of his team, then by Christina, before he's able to slip away from the party completely.

 _'Where the hell are you?'_ Blake texts back before he starts wandering around, lost. His phone buzzes almost instantly with Adam's reply, simply stating, _‘trailer’_ and nothing else. 

When Blake gets to Adam's room, he knocks on the door before letting himself in because why the hell not, finding Adam sitting on the small sofa lining the far wall.

“You're missin' the party, man.”

“Shut the door,” Adam says as he looks up at Blake.

“Why do I feel like I'm in trouble?” Blake asks, closing the door behind him and taking a seat in a chair across from Adam. “What's going on?”

“You really can't think of anything we might need to talk about?”

Of course he can. Blake isn't stupid; he just really wants this to be about something, anything else. The last thing he wants to do right now is sit here and have this kind of conversation. So he shakes his head no and hides behind the cup he's glad he decided to refill while dodging Christina's questions and carry with him.

Adam shifts forward in his seat, hands folded together. “You just made a very bold statement up on that stage tonight, man. Are you going to sit there and tell me that I didn't see what I am one hundred percent positive I know I saw?”

Blake lets out a sigh, feels himself deflate a little as he does. He's pretty humiliated now, to be honest. Performing This Love with his team had seemed like an awesome idea at the time, one Blake didn't think twice about the second it entered his mind just before rehearsals were scheduled to start. He thought Adam would get a kick out of the song choice, thought it would be amusing at best, but he didn't bank on Adam calling him out over it. Not like this. So yeah, bring on the humiliation. Luckily for Blake, he says and does stupid shit all the time, so it's something he has gotten pretty used to. It just stings a little more than it normally would coming from Adam.

“I'm not going to sit here and say anything,” he replies. “Because there's nothin' I can really say, I guess. Other than I'm sorry, alright? I didn't mean to embarrass you but if it makes you feel any better, I'm embarrassed as hell right now, so we're even. Good?”

Adam snorts, shakes his head. “No, Blake. Not good because you're not getting it. You looked me in the eye and you sang those words to me like you meant them, and you think I'm embarrassed? Try confused. Or extremely curious.”

“I got a little… carried away. Caught up in the moment. I didn't mean for it to happen that way,” Blake tries to explain, and it's completely true. When he marched down those steps tonight to sing his part of the song, he had no intention of singing directly to Adam. But something happened when he made it to the stage and he caught sight of Adam watching him, making it completely impossible to look anywhere else but at him. And Blake knew, even as he was singing, deflecting afterward with stupid jokes, that he was fucked. 

He's been fucked for a long time, really, but there's no denying it to himself anymore.

Adam pushes himself up to stand, drags a hand through his hair, and Blake can't tell if he's pissed off or irritated or what. “I'm just going to cut to the chase and you're going to tell me this. Did you mean it?”

“Did I mean what, exactly?”

“Do you want me?” Adam asks, point blank, looking Blake dead in the eyes.

Blake's heart is suddenly jackhammering in his chest and it feels like all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the room by the force of those four words alone. He wants to laugh (regardless of how inappropriate) or maybe throw up, turn around and leave the room, but he's frozen in place by the weight of Adam's question and his stare. He sets his glass down on the table in front of him before he drops it, a slight tremble forming in his hands that he hopes isn't visible (what is that? fear? he's fucking terrified, has never been this scared before in his life) and he scrubs that newly free hand roughly over his face.

“Adam, I-- How am I supposed to answer that?” Because as Blake sees it, he has a couple of options here: he can save himself and deny, deny, deny. Or he can lay his heart and soul and life on the line and go with the honest to god truth. 

It really doesn't help that Adam decides to move closer, sits down on the table that has been separating them right in front of Blake. “With the truth. No bullshitting me here.”

Lying to Adam would be extremely difficult, Blake knows. He's just not sure what Adam is getting out of this, why he wants to know so badly. Does he want to know so he can cut off their friendship? Like, sorry man, I can't be friends with you anymore if you feel that way about me. And he isn't sure he can take the chance that Adam might not like what he'll hear if Blake is honest with him. This crazy bond they have formed between them means way too much to him to jeopardize it, to just throw it all away on the off chance that, what? Adam might feel the same way he does?

Finally, Blake ends up shaking his head again, reaching up to idly rub at the back of his neck. “I don't think I can answer that question.”

“Yes, you can. It's just yes or no, Blake. That's it.”

“Do you really think it's that fucking simple, Adam?” Blake snaps, a little surprised by his own irritation at Adam's over simplification of the whole situation. Because how could there be anything simple about what he's asking of Blake? There are too many factors, there's too much at risk for it to be anything close to simple or easy. Quite the opposite, actually. 

Adam holds his hands up, sits back a little and moves Blake's drink safely out of the way. “No, you're right. That was my bad. But we start with an answer and we go from there, and I know you have an answer.”

When Blake asks, “why are you doing this?” and looks away, his voice sounds small, almost crushed. Defeated.

“Because I need to hear you say it,” is Adam's answer, spoken in just the right way that makes Blake think maybe… Just maybe.

He swallows hard, takes a second to mentally prepare himself for what exactly it is he's about to do here. He lets a small, nervous laugh escape, and he can see Adam looking at him questioningly, but he can't help it. This is probably the dumbest, craziest thing he has ever done in his entire life, drunk or sober, and that is saying a hell of a lot. Dragging a hand through his hair, he scratches at the back of his head, realizes that if he hasn't built up the nerves to spit it out now, he never will. 

“Okay,” he says and looks up, meets Adam's gaze. “Okay. I don't know what it is you really want to hear me say, but I can't… I can't say no. I can't lie to you, Adam. And I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to—”

Before Blake can finish, Adam is moving, cutting him off by saying, “shut up, Blake, oh my god, just shut up,” before he's leaning over and in and pressing their mouths together.

It's an uncoordinated beginning, as far as first kisses go. Blake is caught off guard and then has to get over his momentary shock that it's actually happening before he gets with the program. But then he's returning the kiss eagerly and grabbing at Adam, trying to pull him closer until Adam ends up climbing onto the chair, straddling his lap.

Then as quickly as Adam is there, he’s gone again, flying backward off of Blake’s lap, out of his reach. He looks a little stunned, like he wasn’t the one that just kissed Blake first, like he didn’t just start this whole thing.

“I’m sorry,” he says, dragging a hand over his mouth as he takes a few steps back toward the door. “That wasn’t—I didn’t—Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Blake is up on his feet before Adam can get too far away, stunned himself, confused now as well. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I pushed, I was pushing, you didn’t—”

“Adam.”

“What?”

Blake closes that distance between them again and brings one of his hands up, cups the side of Adam’s face as he leans in to kiss Adam again. It’s softer this time, slower, drawn out to last a few long moments.

“Are you takin’ it back?” Blake murmurs softly, his mouth lingering there against Adam’s.

“I… No,” he breathes, practically vibrating with how much he wants more. It’s their first kiss. _Kisses_. They can figure out the rest later.


	6. Day Six - Wearing Each Other's Clothes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Keep on being mean and I won’t rub you down with the VapoRub later. I know you’re lookin’ forward to that,” Blake quips, slipping his arm around Adam’s shoulders; he can feel the heat from Adam’s skin radiating through the hood of his sweatshirt, overheated from the lingering fever.

“Ugh.”

“I told you to stay home, didn't I?” Blake says as he watches Adam crawl into bed fully clothed until he's completely covered up with blankets, shoes and all.

“Ughhh.”

“What'd I tell ya?”

From the middle of Adam's nest comes his hand and one solitary finger, but the message is loud and clear and enough to make Blake laugh. He reaches under the bottom sheet and grabs Adam's foot, pulling off one shoe, then the other. There's a muffled groan from beneath the two pillows Adam has his face smashed between, and Blake takes it as sign of thanks or maybe another fuck you for the not-so-accidental brushing of the bottom of Adam's foot as he removed his socks. It's definitely one of the two.

Blake swats at the Adam-shaped lump in the middle of the bed, unsure of exactly what part of the body he ends up hitting. “Hey, you have drugs to take, you can't go to sleep yet.” He stands there for a few moments, and when it's painfully obvious that he's being ignored, he lets out a sigh and leaves the room. 

Adam's various medications are all in the bathroom: antibiotics, Tylenol, throat spray, cough syrup, and after grabbing a bottle of water from the kitchen, Blake makes sure he has the right number of pills in hand along with all the rest before he's back in the bedroom. It doesn't look like Adam has moved an inch, and Blake would laugh if he didn't know that Adam felt like complete hell. He probably wouldn’t feel nearly as bad if he hadn’t insisted on doing the show that night, but he pushed through it and got it done, despite the fact that he was about to collapse by the time it was over. Adam called himself hardworking; Blake called him a hardheaded son of a bitch as he all but carried Adam out to the car as they were leaving the studio. 

Sitting down on the edge of the bed, Blake lifts one of the pillows enough to offer up his hand and four pills. “I’m sorry none of these are hardcore. I could probably find you somethin’ if you really wanted it.”

Adam would snort if he were physically able, shifting just enough to be able to swallow without choking as Blake drops the meds into his hand. “It’s the thought that counts.” 

“You want this in the little cup or you wanna just chug it?” Blake asks, holding up the cough syrup.

“Ugh, I don’t want that shit at all. Gimmie that,” he rasps, reaching for the throat spray instead. It tastes disgusting too, but it numbs the ache left behind from the dozen razorblades he doesn’t remember swallowing. 

All bottles set aside, Blake watches as Adam curls back up on the bed, covering himself up again. The only thing Blake can see is an ear and crazy spiky hair, and he reaches out, his hand resting on what should be Adam’s shoulder. “Anything else I can do?” he asks, because he feels pretty helpless and he knows what the answer is going to be and he kind of hates it.

“No,” Adam says from beneath the covers. “‘M fine, Blake.”

“I’ll be downstairs if you need me, just holler. Or text me, since you can’t really holler right now.”

It pains him to leave Adam alone, but Blake knows there’s really nothing he can do to help and if he hovered too much, Adam would just get pissy. Reluctantly, he heads down to set up camp on the couch with a drink and his phone, something mindless playing on the TV in the background. 

He isn’t sure exactly how much time passes, an hour at the most, before he hears Adam coughing his way down the stairs. It sounds painful, a deep and wet, rib-cracking sort of cough that makes Blake wince just listening to it. Adam stumbles into the room a few moments later, and Blake does a double take because he has changed into a pair of cotton pants and one of Blake’s hoodies. He’s practically swimming in it with how much it’s too big for him, the sleeves covering his hands, the hood pulled up over his head.

“What’re you doing up?” Blake asks as Adam collapses next to him on the couch.

“Can’t breathe,” Adam rasps, his voice shot. 

Blake shakes his head and pushes himself up, muttering something about _stubborn jackass_ under his breath as he marches out of the room. He sits down on the coffee table in front of Adam when he gets back, holding out one of two small cups.

“Take this,” he says, positioning it so Adam can see it from under the hood. 

“Ugh.”

“Take it!” It’s a command this time, and Adam takes the small plastic cup from Blake’s hand. “Chase it with this,” Blake says and holds out the shot glass just as Adam downs the red, sticky cough medicine. He gags and grabs the glass, throwing the shot back a second later. “You’re welcome.”

“Fuck,” is all Adam can reply with, dragging the sleeve of Blake’s sweatshirt over his face.

“Look at how nice I’m being to you and you’re usin’ my shirt as a snot rag, that’s just great.”

“Shut up, don’t make me laugh. I’m cold and it’s comfortable.” Adam’s voice is already starting to sound slightly less congested as the cough medicine gets to work opening up his airways, the tequila riding shotgun, and as Blake settles next to him again, he leans heavily into Blake’s side.

“Keep on being mean and I won’t rub you down with the VapoRub later. I know you’re lookin’ forward to that,” Blake quips, slipping his arm around Adam’s shoulders; he can feel the heat from Adam’s skin radiating through the hood of his sweatshirt, overheated from the lingering fever.

Blake wants to appreciate the fact that Adam is wearing his clothes, but the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes something is a little… off. It doesn’t take him long to realize the last time he remembers Adam wearing one of his shirts, he was sick then too, struck down for 48 hours with a stomach bug that went around the whole studio. The time before that, it was a random bad headache turned sinus infection that he had trouble kicking.

“Hey, how come you only wear my clothes when you’re sick?”

“Hmm?” Adam is almost asleep, nuzzling his face against Blake’s shoulder. “I dunno. ’Cause you make me feel better.”

“Oh,” Blake says and tugs the hood of Adam’s – _his_ – sweatshirt back enough to press a lingering kiss to Adam’s forehead, skin still entirely too warm under his lips. He tilts his head, letting it rest lightly against old, thick cotton. 

Thinking about it a little more, idly curling one of the hoodie’s strings around his fingers, it’s not so bad, he supposes. If it helps. It’s not so bad at all.


	7. Day Seven - Incognito

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake is looking in his direction, and he has a strange look on his face for a few moments, and maybe it’s Adam projecting, wanting Blake to really and truly _see him_ \-- but there’s no way he could be picking Adam out of such a huge crowd, Adam is sure he’s too well hidden for that.

It might be one of the dumbest things he has ever done. There are many ways it could go wrong, shit could go bad, he could be so, so screwed. But he thinks the experience would be worth it, the chance to be just another anonymous no one lost in the crowd, surrounded by a sea of people all there to experience one thing: Blake Shelton.

Long sleeves are a must, plaid obviously since the mission is to make like a chameleon and blend, as well as a hat. He contemplates going the cowboy route, but sticks with a regular cap instead; in the end he goes with one of Blake’s that he finds lying around and can size down to fit his head, a camo print and a little frayed around the edges. The boots might be his favorite part, and he wonders if Blake will be proud of him when he sees Adam in a pair of bona fide cowboy boots. Thinking about it makes him smile and makes his heart hurt at the same time. His facial hair has grown out a little more than he usually lets it, more along the lines of beard instead of just scruff right now. It helps to hide his face, the dimples, and he hopes and prays it’s enough.

From what he has seen and heard about Blake’s shows, he figures people will be too focused on drinking and the fact that it’s Blake on stage to give a fuck about what’s going on around them and the fact that hey, does that guy kind of look a little bit like Adam Levine?

He tries not to think about the fact that he’s a little terrified, focuses instead on the rush he’s getting from it, on the fact that he hasn’t seen Blake in a few weeks and he misses him so fucking much, it hurts. Instead of the fear, he thinks about what Blake will say when he realizes Adam is there, when they see each other again, when Adam tells him that he’s worth it, he is worth _everything_. Adam is just an asshole for not saying it sooner.

The show has already started when Adam heads inside, the final opening act finishing up their set. He waits for a little while to find his seat, doesn’t want to take any chances with that lull between sets. He manages to time it just right, getting to his seat just as the lights are going down again and it’s time for Blake to hit the stage. There’s a certain anxious excitement he always feels in the pit of his stomach before his own shows, and he’s feeling it now, feeding off of the crowd and his own desire to have his eyes on Blake live in person again.

As soon as Blake is there, stepping out into the spotlight, Adam knows he made the right decision. He’s grinning and cheering before he even realizes the sound is coming out of his own mouth and not just those around him; he thinks about the last time he saw Blake and how Blake had walked away looking completely gutted, and god he was stupid, so fucking stupid to think he could ever let this man go.

It’s a mistake he will not make twice.

Adam doesn’t look away from him for a single second, and at one point, somewhere in the middle of the show, it feels like they’re making eye contact. Blake is looking in his direction, and he has a strange look on his face for a few moments, and maybe it’s Adam projecting, wanting Blake to really and truly _see him_ \-- but there’s no way he could be picking Adam out of such a huge crowd, Adam is sure he’s too well hidden for that. He has to be.

The encore is Adam’s cue to head backstage, and he hopes that Blake’s people will let him through. He has his license on him if it's needed, if he has to prove that he really is who he says he is. He can show them pictures of he and Blake together on his phone if he needs to prove that Blake knows him, would actually want to see him. It’s a ridiculous line of thought, he knows, because he gets let back easily, and one of the guards takes him to Blake’s dressing room.

“It’s going to be quick when the show’s over,” Adam gets told. “They’ll be heading right out to the buses.”

The wait is excruciating. Adam paces, sits, chews on his thumb nail, then he’s up and pacing some more. It feels like an hour has passed before the door finally opens and with it comes a rush of noise and heat and a very sweaty Blake.

“What the…” 

“Hi.”

Blake blinks at him, shaking his head a little before his gaze travels down the length of Adam’s body, getting stuck on the boots for a moment. “What’re you doin’ here?”

“I came to see you, obviously,” Adam replies.

“Is that…” Blake starts, tilting his head a little. “Is that my hat?”

Adam smiles. “It is.”

Blake goes quiet again after that, and he won’t stop _looking_ , unable to really believe what he’s seeing. Adam knows that is what he’s thinking, the disbelief is written all over his face. “Did you watch the show from the crowd?” he finally asks, and there’s something that sounds like awe in his voice that hits Adam like a punch in the gut.

“Yes. You were incredible, Blake. You _are_ incredible.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I’m a little—I don’t understand what’s happenin’ right now. I know I’ve had a little bit to drink, but it hasn’t been _that_ much. I shouldn’t be this confused.”

Adam opens his mouth to speak at the same time there’s a knock on Blake’s door, a voice on the other side announcing, “five minutes, Blake!”

“You have to go, I know. Just,” Adam says, then closes the distance between them. He’s up on his tiptoes a second later, pressing their mouths together. Blake tastes like salt and cheap booze, and it’s crazy that it’s all Adam wants. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs when the kiss breaks, not caring at all that Blake is a sweaty, overheated mess plastered against his front. “I’ve missed you like crazy you have no idea, it’s fucking stupid, and Blake, goddamn it, this? You? It’s everything. _Everything_ , do you get it? Because I finally fucking get it.”

“Adam--” Another knock on the door, another shout of Blake’s name. “Jesus christ, Adam, your timin’ really sucks.”

Adam can’t help but laugh. “The story of our lives, right? Go, get out of here before they leave without you and the next stop on your tour is hugely disappointed when you aren’t there.”

Blake flashes a smile and heads back toward the door. “Hey, Adam?” he says as he pulls it open.

“Yeah?”

“Those boots are hot.”


	8. Day Eight - Shopping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few moments where he almost stops, almost opens his mouth to point something out and ask Blake what he thinks, but one sideways glance at Blake’s face makes him think better of it in the end. He’s about to give up, thinking this is a lost cause, when Blake’s fingers close around his wrist.
> 
> “That one,” he says.

“Hey, come look at this. What about this one?”

Blake crosses the room and steps up behind the couch, peering over Adam’s shoulder to see what’s on the computer screen. “Jeez, Adam, that thing is enormous. A little too big, don't ya think?”

Adam shifts a little to look back at Blake, gives him a once over with his eyes. “Maybe I like big.”

Rolling his eyes, Blake steps away, amused smile in place. “I'm calling veto on that one. Keep lookin'.”

“Aren't we supposed to be doing this together?”

“Someone's gotta clean up your crap,” Blake replies as he makes his way through the living room, picking up random articles of clothing thrown around, pairs of shoes lying everywhere, a majority of which all belong to Adam.

“Aw, honey, that's so sweet,” Adam says, sickeningly sweet smile in place until Blake throws a dirty, balled up pair of socks at his head.

A couple of minutes later, Blake has a load of laundry in the washer and Adam is calling him over to the laptop again. “What about this one? And you're already making a face, what the hell? You looked at the screen for literally less than a second.”

“It's kinda... shaped weird.”

“Shaped weird? What the fuck, Blake?”

“I don't know, Adam! I think I'll know it when I see it. It's just one of those things.”

Adam lets out a sigh, scrubs a hand over his face. “Alright, you know what? Come here, sit with me. We're doing this together,” he says and stands up, letting Blake sit down in the spot he was just occupying. Once Blake is settled, Adam sits in his lap, positioning the laptop so they can both see the screen. It doesn’t matter that the entire rest of the couch is empty, Adam takes _doing this together_ quite literally.

For a little while the only sound that fills the room is whatever random song comes on whatever random playlist Adam has going on iTunes. There are a few moments where he almost stops, almost opens his mouth to point something out and ask Blake what he thinks, but one sideways glance at Blake’s face makes him think better of it in the end. He’s about to give up, thinking this is a lost cause, when Blake’s fingers close around his wrist.

“That one,” he says.

“Really?”

“You don’t see it?”

Adam looks at the screen. Tilts his head a little. Clicks on a few more pictures to get a better view, different angles. He looks at Blake, then back at the screen. That’s when he sees it.

“This one?”

“I’m in if you are.”

“I’m just saying, if I make this phone call…”

“Do it.”

“No bluffing?”

Blake’s fingers tighten around his wrist. “Adam.”

Adam grins. “It’s a really big deal, I have to make sure!” 

Blake leans in, kisses that stupid grin right off of his face. When he pulls back, he’s got one of his own. “Make the call so we can do this thing.”

Reaching for his phone, Adam presses another quick kiss to Blake’s mouth. “Buying a house together. Here we go.”


	9. Day Nine - On Set

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just another day on the set of The Voice. Sort of. Adam is just fine. More or less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the rating change!

Adam feels his phone vibrate against his thigh and he clenches his jaw for a moment, resists the urge to send a glare down the row of chairs. Fishing his phone out of his pocket, he unlocks it to read the waiting message, Blake’s name popping up right there at the top.

_‘How you feeling?’_

He does tip his head forward this time, looking down the line at Blake talking innocently with Usher like everything is completely ordinary, like this is just another day at the job, nothing weird happening whatsoever. Adam sort of wants to punch them both.

 _‘Fine.’_

Sending back the one word answer, Adam focuses on his breathing, on remaining calm and centered. They’re given the signal that auditions are about to start once again, that this short little break is over, everyone back to their seats. 

He can do this. He’ll be just fine.

*** 

It’s easy to lose track of time and the number of auditions they sit through; it all becomes a little bit of a blur after a while, especially when Adam is trying so hard to stay focused. The next break they are given, it’s difficult to resist the urge to jump out of his seat, but he stays put for now, digging his phone out of his pocket again to check the missed messages that came buzzing in between auditions.

_‘You sure you’re fine?’_

_‘Why are you ignoring me?’_

_‘Seriously, are you pissed or something?’_

_‘Adam!!!!!’_

_‘God you’re awesome.’_

The last one makes him smile and he looks down at Blake, catching his gaze. Blake sends him a wink just before he’s sliding out of his chair, and it makes Adam’s stomach clinch, something throbbing deep inside of him. He watches Blake all but saunter right over to his chair, looking disgustingly smug, and the desire to hit him is back again tenfold.

“Gonna be a longer one this time, fifteen, twenty minutes or so,” Blake says, leaning in close. “Since you didn’t answer me, you sure you’re fine?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

“We still got a little while to go, should we take this break to check?”

“Oh my god!” Adam says, smacking at Blake’s stomach, lowering his voice to a harsh whisper. “Why are you talking to me about this right here, right now? Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

“Come backstage with me.”

“Blake…”

“C’mon, we’re burnin’ precious time.”

Adam takes a deep breath and puts on his most neutral face, keeps the glare at bay because of how many eyes are on them, watching their every move. It isn’t until they’re safely backstage that he punches Blake in the arm, just because.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“Because I felt like it, that’s why!”

Blake is still rubbing his arm when they walk into his trailer, and Adam is just fine with that, wouldn’t feel bad if there’s a bruise in that spot later. Well, he might feel a little bad about it somewhere down the road, but right now, he could not give less of a fuck. When the door is closed and locked (triple checked, just to make sure), Blake crowds into his personal space, and out of nowhere, Adam is shaking, sweat forming on his brow, like all of the time he has spent not thinking about it is hitting him like a flood right now, all at once. 

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” he says right before Blake kisses him, his knees almost buckling. “I don’t think this is a good idea _at all_ ,” he mumbles, the words all but lost against Blake’s mouth, Blake’s hand sliding down the back of his pants. Adam lets out a groan, prays to god no one is around to hear it. “Blake, I can’t go back looking like you just fucked me if your trailer. _Blake_.”

It’s a tight fit, Adam’s belt is a little constricting, but Blake gets a finger where he wants it, lines it up just right and _presses_ – Adam has to smash his face into Blake’s shoulder to muffle his shout, clinging to Blake so he doesn’t loose his footing. 

“Feels good to me,” Blake says, his hand sliding away, and if Adam hadn’t lost a little bit of his brain along with muscle control just seconds before, he might’ve punched him again.

“Like you’re an expert at this sort of thing, right?” Adam shoots back, but it’s weak. He is so, so weak. And turned on. He hates Blake so much right now.

“You could’ve said no, you know.”

“No, I couldn’t. You’re going to make this worth it.”

Blake grins. “You’re damn right I am.”

*** 

The remaining auditions they have to sit through are agonizing. Adam doesn’t let it show, though. He listens, he is attentive, he pushes his button, and he does his best to charm and sell and beg contestants he wants most to be on his team. 

If he has to have his makeup touched up a little bit more than usual because sweat keeps breaking out along his brow, well, he can’t really help that. If he fidgets a little bit more than normal, well, he can just blame that on the Starbucks. It’s not his fault the show pushes it on everyone like it’s water.

When the show is cut and wrapped for the day, he wants to sigh with relief, but what he feels is nothing like relief. It’s so far from relief, he could scream, and as he makes his way backstage, he grabs Blake’s arm and pulls him right out of a conversation with Carson without a single care.

“Hey, we were talkin’ back there.”

“Are you _really serious_ right now?” Adam hisses, his grip on Blake’s arm tightening as they make a beeline for the exit. “If we don’t get home in like, five seconds, I am going to fucking lose my mind.”

“Isn’t that sorta part of the idea?” Blake asks, leaning in close. Adam doesn’t even dignify that with a response, just keeps walking, a man on a mission.

It’s unfortunate that is takes a lot longer than five seconds for them to get home, but as soon as they walk through the front door, Adam is ripping his t-shirt off over his head, and if he thought he could run comfortably, he would be hauling ass up the stairs to the bedroom. Blake follows behind Adam’s gingerly pace, slipping off his boots and carrying them with him, dodging Adam’s belt when it goes flying. 

“In a hurry?” he asks as he watches Adam stumble a little as he kicks out of his shoes.

“Fuck you.”

“Nope, no, that’s all you this time.”

Adam spins on his heels and is on Blake in an instant, crushing their mouths together in a bruising kiss. He tugs at Blake’s hair, his shirt, bites at his bottom lip before he’s drawing back just enough to speak.

“I swear to god, Blake—”

“I know, Adam, _I know_.”

Adam’s pants are already off by the time they make it into the bedroom, and once he’s up on the bed, he feels like he can hardly breathe, sweating again already. Blake hooks long fingers under the waistband of his boxer briefs and tugs them down, and Adam could almost sob with how close they are to this being done, it’s almost over now, he fucking did it.

“Take it out, Blake, do it please, _fuck_.” It’s a rush of words as Blake’s hands smooth along the insides of Adam’s thighs, but before they get anywhere good, they disappear. Adam lets out a pained, disappointed groan, his eyes fluttering open to see Blake grabbing the lube and slicking up his fingers. 

“So impatient.” Blake has one hand back on Adam’s inner thigh, the other waiting. “Ready?”

“Do you really have to ask? Fucking do it already, _come on_.”

Blake is gentle, goes slow; Adam has been wearing the plug for a little over four hours now and after the initial pull, it slides out easily, black and shiny when the light hits it. His body is left gaping and open, searching for something to clamp down on once the plug is gone. He feels strangely empty and hollow, but that feeling doesn’t last very long because Blake’s fingers are there a second later and Adam is left cursing again. 

“Thought you weren’t gonna do this part,” Adam pants out, bending one knee as he automatically rocks back against Blake’s hand. 

“Just curious to see what it feels like,” Blake says and bites a kiss to Adam’s stomach, twists his fingers in nice and deep. 

Adam keens and tangles his own fingers in Blake’s hair; it’s not enough, nothing Blake is doing right now is enough, it’s so downright frustrating, Adam wants to scream. He twists one hand in the collar of Blake’s shirt and tugs, pulling hard until Blake slides up along his body, pressing a kiss to his mouth.

“Take your goddamn clothes off,” Adam bites out as soon as his mouth is free again. “I swear to god you’re doing this on purpose just to piss me off.”

Blake doesn’t even bother with it, doesn’t see the point. He’s already between Adam’s legs, spread wide open, can’t make himself move away--

“And you call me impatient,” Adam says as he watches Blake unbutton his jeans, tug the zipper down one-handed.

“You are,” Blake agrees, and any smartass reply Adam could manage to fire back with is cut off when Blake replaces his fingers with his cock. It’s a slick, smooth transition, Adam’s body greedy for it, taking him in easily. 

“Ohh _fuck_ ,” Adam groans out, letting go of Blake’s shirt to reach back above his head for the bottom of the headboard; he holds on as tight as he can to the polished wood because this is what he’s been waiting for, Blake holding nothing back, driving in hard and fast from the word go. 

This is going to be brutal and it’s going to hurt later, he’s going to feel this for _days_ , but Adam doesn’t care. He wants it too much to care. He fucking loves it when Blake completely lets go like this, gives himself up to the passion and pure unadulterated lust and taps into his wild side. Blake has the bad habit of worrying too much about stupid things, pain and bruises and lasting marks, when all Adam really wants him to do is to take him apart piece by piece with mouth and hands and cock. 

The fact that the plug had been Blake’s idea, well. 

“ _Bl-ah-ake_.” 

It takes two tries to get Blake’s name out fully, sounding more like a hiccup on the second attempt, but it’s there, Blake hears him well enough. He leans down and in, capturing Adam’s lips in a deep, searing kiss. Adam’s fingers ache when he lets go of the headboard to grab onto Blake’s shirt again, fumbling with the buttons; he gets three open before he gives up all together and just yanks as hard as he can. Buttons pop off, fabric rips, the shirt hanging open as Blake stutters to a halt. 

“No, no, no, don’t fucking stop,” Adam pants, hips rocking up to get Blake moving again, even though he really needs a second to catch his breath.

Blake steals one more kiss, quick and dirty before he gets his hands on Adam’s hips, lifting him up. “Up and over.”

Adam gets flipped, barely settling on his knees before Blake is sinking into him again, stealing away what little breath he was able to get back. He isn’t really expecting to have is upper body shoved down into the mattress, held down by one scorching hand on the back of his neck. The pace Blake sets is relentless; the bastard has no rhythm when it comes to dancing but he can fuck Adam’s brains out no problem. All Adam can do is hold on for the ride until the hand on the back of his neck tightens almost painfully, Blake’s whole body suddenly going still, liquid heat pulsing deep inside of him. It’s not even his orgasm, but Adam feels the rush, his heart pounding, breathing through it.

Once the grip on his neck start to loosen, Adam attempts to push himself up a little, gets his elbows underneath him just as Blake’s other arm snakes around his chest. They end up pressed tightly together, Blake a solid line of sweat and smoldering heat plastered to Adam’s back; they hold still for a few moments, just breathing, Blake nuzzling against Adam’s neck, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw.

“Should plug you back up, keep you full for a while,” Blake says against Adam’s ear just as he’s wrapping a hand around Adam’s cock.

Adam lets out a groan, his arms almost giving out on him. “Fucking christ, when did you get so filthy?” 

“When did we get together?” Blake asks, a breathy murmur, and Adam chokes out a laugh, reaching down to cover Blake’s hand with one of his own on his cock. 

Adam just whimpers when Blake squeezes, cock rock hard and slick with precome. He’s already close, can feel it coiled low and hot in his belly; Blake knows how to work him just right, can pull him apart all too easily, and it finally is a relief this time when he comes, blinding, shattering. 

By the time he comes back to his senses, collapsed down against the bed, Blake is already off of him, and huh, Adam missed that completely. He can’t remember the last time he felt this wrung out, entirely drained, his body already starting to ache in all the best ways. He wants to stretch, needs to clean up, but he can’t even make himself move a muscle, not yet anyway, and he presses a stupid smile into the closest pillow he can reach.

Blake is back a moment later, warm cloth sweeping over Adam’s skin and he lets out a sigh. “’M so glad we decided against doing that in your trailer. That could’ve been so, so bad,” he says, his voice muffled against the pillow. “I can already see it. ‘Scandal Rocks the Set of The Voice, news at ten.’”

Blake barks out a laugh as he settles on the bed again. “Rocks the set. Literally.”

“You’re such an idiot.”


	10. Day Ten - With Animals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two days. It took Adam all of two whole days to break his promise.

Blake has only been gone for two days when he gets the text. He and Adam text often, that’s not unusual, but this time it’s a picture of half of Adam’s face and a big dog’s nose surrounded by curly hair. He can tell they’re lying on the bed, sees a pillow in the background, part of Adam’s bare shoulder. 

‘Miss you,’ is the caption and that part makes Blake smile.

‘Miss you too,’ he writes back. ‘Get the dog off the bed.’

*** 

The next one comes the following night. He’s fresh from the shower, about to crash after sitting in a deer stand in the freezing cold for more hours than he cares to count at this point to walk away empty handed, his phone buzzing across the table.

This time the caption says, ‘Charlie has a new favorite pillow!’ and Blake curses because the whole picture is the dog lying in the middle of the bed with his head on (what Blake is assuming is) his pillow.

“Goddamn it, Adam,” he says out loud to himself, then writes back, ‘you are a pain in the ass, get that mutt off of the bed and off of my pillow!!!’

Adam’s answer comes back almost instantly. ‘She’s not a mutt, she’s full blooded! Has papers and everything! I'm offended on her behalf!’

Blake doesn’t even dignify that with a response.

***

Two days. It took Adam all of two whole days to break his promise. Granted Blake knows the dogs were probably on the bed the second Blake walked out the door, but still. It’s the fact that Blake made it a point to have Adam look him in the eye and promise that he would _not_ , under any circumstances, let the dogs sleep in the bed while Blake was gone on this hunting trip. And he lied. And gave them Blake’s pillow. 

Motherfucker.

*** 

They don’t talk about it when they trade in texting for actual phone calls. Blake doesn’t bring it up and he knows for a fact that Adam sure as hell won’t be the one to mention it first, not in a real time conversation, even though Blake can tell he’s waiting for it. 

All the while his phone fills up over the next two weeks with various pictures of Adam and the dogs, like Adam is doing everything he possibly can to push Blake’s buttons just because he wants to see what Blake might do; or hell, Blake has no idea why Adam does a lot of the shit he does, Adam is a strange guy sometimes, this could be just another one of those things. Who fucking knows.

When Blake has done all the hunting he can do and says goodbye to both Kansas and Oklahoma, he’s a little surprised to realize he’s happy to be heading back home to Adam. He makes one stop on his way to the house even though all he wants to do is shower and drink and sleep in his own bed for fourteen hours straight. And maybe make out with Adam a little. Sex would be awesome, too. He’s really not that picky.

Adam greets him at the door and throws his arms up around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. “Welcome home. Please don’t—Did you go shopping?”

“Yes,” Blake answers. “No. Well, a little bit. Lemme inside.”

The dogs are circling him the second the front door closes, and it’s a difficult trek up the stairs to the bedroom carrying all of his crap, dodging two dogs desperate for attention from this new exciting person who smells a little weird, with Adam hot on his heels. 

Once they make it to the bedroom, Blake heads straight for the bed and grabs what used to be his pillow, spinning right around to smack Adam as hard as he can with it. Twice. Then a third time for good measure.

“Hey, you _just_ got home! Don’t be a dick!”

“I’m not being a dick. You deserved that and you know it,” he says, throwing the pillow across the room where the dogs instantly pounce on it. He doesn’t miss the sheepish look on Adam’s face, pointedly holding his gaze as he pulls a brand new pillow out of the bag. “See this?” he asks. “No dogs allowed, got it?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“I’m serious here, Adam.”

“Fine, I got it,” Adam says, borderline pouting. “I won’t tell them that their stepdad is a dog hating pillow nazi, I’m not going to break their little hearts like that. So you get to tell them they have to sleep downstairs tonight.”

Once again, Blake doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Sometimes it’s best to just walk away. This is one of those times.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, this is horrible, let's forget this even happened okay? Okay.


	11. Day Eleven - Wearing Leather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It looks like a vest, obviously, the kind that Blake wears all the time. It’s even black, a common color for Blake. Only this one is leather and something Adam has never seen before, and since when does Blake walk around rocking leather vests?
> 
>  
> 
> [Inspiration.](http://www.eonline.com/eol_images/Entire_Site/201506/rs_634x846-150106111746-voice_s8_blake_firstlook.jpg)

“I’m coming in, Shelton, I hope like hell you’re not decent!” Adam announces as he knocks and opens the door of Blake’s dressing room, both at the same time. “Wait a second, you’re never decent, what am I talking about?”

“You’re hilarious,” Blake replies just as he’s buttoning up his shirt, a rich navy blue that brings out his eyes. “Is that really what you’re wearin’ for this shoot?”

Adam looks down at his jeans and white t-shirt. “Uh, yeah. Do you have a problem with it?”

Blake shakes his head, grabs his vest from where it’s draped over a nearby chair. “Just asked a question.”

“Whoa, hey, whoa,” Adam says, hands flying, as Blake slips his arms into the vest. “What—what is _that_?”

“What does it look like?”

It looks like a vest, obviously, the kind that Blake wears all the time. It’s even black, a common color for Blake. Only this one is leather and something Adam has never seen before, and since when does Blake walk around rocking leather vests? Leather _anything_?

“You… Where… That was in wardrobe?”

Blake shoots him a look. “Yes? What the hell’s the matter with you?”

Adam closes the distance between them, bringing his hands up to Blake’s shoulders. The black leather is soft and smooth under Adam’s palms as he slides them down along Blake’s chest, then back up to his shoulders. He likes it. He likes it _a lot_.

“Okay, no, you know what, you can’t wear this,” Adam says, shoving his hands under the vest and doing his best to get it off of Blake right this instant.

Blake laughs, though clearly confused, shrugging Adam off of him. “Did you trip over somethin’ and hit your head on the way over here?”

“ _Blake_.”

He doesn’t really get it until Adam kisses him. That one kiss says a lot, Adam’s hands restless until they finally land at Blake’s waist, holding on tight. When Adam finally eases back, breathless and a little lightheaded, Blake looks just as dazed as Adam feels. He smooths his hands over the vest again, warm now from the heat of Blake’s body, and when he leans in, nuzzles against Blake’s neck and _breathes_ – it’s all Blake’s familiar scent mixed with a subtle hint of sweet leather and it’s enough to make Adam’s mouth water.

“Oh,” Blake says, finally.

“Oh,” Adam echoes, agrees. 

They’re quiet again for a few long moments, Adam eventually pulling away. He reaches for one of Blake’s sleeves and rolls it up for him, then starts on the other, almost done when Blake speaks again. “But what if I like the idea of drivin’ you crazy? You do it to me all the damn time. In good ways _and_ bad.”

“I’m not going to win this, am I?”

Blake thinks about that for a second before he grins a little, shaking his head. “Nah, I don’t think so. Not this time.”

“All right. Okay. You know what?” Adam says, heading toward the door. “Two can play at this game. You may end up regretting this.”

Adam is gone and back again in a little under five minutes. He walks right into Blake’s dressing room without as much as a knock, pushing the door closed behind him. Blake barely has time to register what he’s seeing before Adam is on him, kissing him again, hot and hungry. He can’t drag this out as much as he wants to, they’re due to be in make-up in a few short minutes, but he feels Blake’s hands on his ass, swallows Blake’s groan, and it feels like sweet victory.

“I hate you,” Blake breathes when the kiss finally breaks, unable to pull his hands away from the leather-clad ass they’re currently holding onto.

“You love me,” Adam grins. “And hey, now we match. My pants, your vest. You like that sort of thing, don’t you? Am I remembering that right?”

“This is gonna be one hell of a photo shoot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame the lack of quality on the migraine that has been eating my brain off and on for a good 24 hours now. I'm sorry, I'm trying.


	12. Day Twelve - Making Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has missed this so much, it’s a little hard to breathe once he gets it back again. Not necessarily making out with Adam in his kitchen, but getting to kiss Adam in general. It’s the same every time they’re apart, the electric and breathless and almost devastating way they come crashing back together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is a day late. I suck, I know.

When Blake pulls his rental truck up to the front of his house, the sight that greets him is a little surprising but not at all unwelcome. He parks next to Adam’s shiny black sports car and climbs out, torn between amusement and something else all together to see Adam sprawled out across the hood. The thoughts that race through his mind once he gets a better look are nothing less than obscene, what with the way Adam’s shirt has ridden up and how his skin is sunkissed, tight denim stretched over muscled thighs where they hang over the side of the car. 

Adam sits up at the sound of the door slamming closed and turns the hat around on his head so the bill is facing behind him. He grins after a moment or two because Blake is just standing there staring, and says, “what?” as he slides off of the car.

“You know what,” Blake replies, snapping out of it. He walks around to the other side of the truck to grab his stuff, a duffle bag and a few bags of groceries he stopped to get on the way because he knew he wouldn’t feel like leaving again later. “How long have you been here?”

“Not too long. Forty-five minutes or so. Long enough for you to go grocery shopping, apparently,” Adam quips, stealing the keys from Blake to unlock the door ahead of him. “It will never stop amazing me how you won’t take advantage of the fact that there are people who will do that shit for you. Like, it’s their actual job.”

Blake rolls his eyes and follows Adam inside. It’s a little stuffy and not at all as comfortable as he would like, and after dropping the bags off in the kitchen, he makes a beeline for the thermostat.

“What’s so wrong with wanting to do things for myself?” Blake asks as soon as he’s back in the kitchen, and it doesn’t escape his notice that instead of making himself useful and emptying any of the bags, Adam has parked his ass up on the counter instead.

“Not a thing. I was just saying, you amaze me is all.” 

Blake hides his smile in the fridge as he puts away the carton of eggs and milk, a pack of bacon, orange juice. He returns to the bags on the counter, balling up the empty one and throwing it in Adam’s direction. “You just gonna sit there and watch?” 

“I thought you liked doing things for yourself?” Adam asks with a grin, and Blake smacks the hat off of his head as he walks by to put a couple boxes of cereal in the cabinet. 

A few more items and all of the groceries are put away. Blake stops directly in front of Adam, reaching for the cabinet he’s resting his head against, his hand getting stuck there on the handle. Their gazes are locked for a few long moments before Adam finds himself grinning again, just a little, as his legs slowly spread against the counter. It’s instantaneous, the way Blake moves that half step forward to put himself right between them without thought. 

“Can I help you with something?” Adam asks, knees pressing into Blake’s hips.

“You can move your big head so I can grab a glass,” Blake answers, but his eyes flicker down to Adam’s mouth for a fraction of a second, see the way they curl into a smirk and he knows he’s going to lose this game so fucking fast. 

Adam tips his head to the side, leans over just enough that Blake should be able to open the cabinet door and reach in to get a glass. All he really achieves, though, is giving Blake a tantalizing view of the stretch of his neck, his legs tightening ever so slightly against Blake’s hips. 

Glass in hand, Blake sets it down safely on the counter because he doesn’t trust himself to not drop it and break it, doesn’t trust Adam to not make him drop it. 

“What, I don’t get one?” Adam asks.

“You know where they are, get your own,” Blake says and makes to step away then, but suddenly Adam’s legs are hooked around his own, holding him in place. Adam’s hand curls in the front of his shirt and reels in him, right into a kiss that Blake has been craving for weeks now. He melts into it, lets out a sigh when he finally gets his hands on Adam’s body, gripping his hips and pulling him even closer.

“Hi,” Adam says softly when they break away for air.

“Hey.”

“It’s been a really long month.”

“Mm,” is Blake’s only response because yes, it really has, and he leans in to kiss Adam again.

He has missed this so much, it’s a little hard to breathe once he gets it back again. Not necessarily making out with Adam in his kitchen, but getting to kiss Adam in general. It’s the same every time they’re apart, the electric and breathless and almost devastating way they come crashing back together. He can feel Adam pressing against him, trying to get closer even though it isn’t possible, there’s no more room, hands clutching at Blake’s back as he grinds against him instead.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Adam mumbles between kisses, legs wrapped around Blake’s waist. He gets a hand tangled in Blake’s hair, holding on tight as the next kiss gets particularly deep, Adam’s tongue fucking into Blake’s mouth to say _this is what I want, this needs to be happening right now_.

When Blake pulls back this time, it’s with a ragged breath, his head starting to swim a little. He can feel the impatience practically radiating off of Adam, and he almost laughs when a second later, there are hands tugging on his belt, pulling it open.

Blake grins, presses his mouth to the side of Adam’s jaw. “’M not havin’ sex with you in my kitchen,” he says against stubbled skin.

“Then let’s get the fuck out of the kitchen,” Adam says in a rush, his legs squeezing, hands still insistent on the front of Blake’s jeans.

Blake takes a small step back, fully intending to pull away, but his gaze lands on Adam’s mouth again, lips slick and shining, and he feels compelled, cannot resist. The next kiss is much slower, a long, lingering press of lips, slotted together in the most perfect of ways; until Blake makes the move to deepen the kiss again, his tongue making a slow sweep through Adam’s mouth, the two brushing together, getting tangled as Adam chases Blake’s back into his own mouth. 

“Still in the kitchen,” Adam whispers with a laugh as he eases back, his hands coming up to work on the buttons on the front of Blake’s shirt. 

With a soft curse, Blake finally takes a few more steps back, getting his hands under Adam’s ass after it slides the rest of the way off of the counter and holds on. If Adam thinks he’s getting carried all the way upstairs, he has another thing coming. At least that’s what Blake thinks when he gets them out of the kitchen and makes headway toward the stairs, almost there before he’s pressing Adam back against the closest wall and kissing him again. Adam groans into it, deep and heartfelt, and it’s music to Blake’s ears, his fingers digging into firm muscle hard enough to bruise in the hopes he can pull that sound from Adam again. 

Adam breaks the kiss with a gasp, his head smacking back against the wall but he barely even registers it. “Fuck, Blake, _come on_ ,” he says, his hands pulling at Blake’s shirt in a futile attempt to get it off right this second. “Are you trying to kiss me until I come? What’s the fucking deal here?”

“Think I can?”

“Get me horizontal, put your mouth on my dick, and let’s find out.”

Blake gives Adam’s ass a good pinch for that one; it’s hard to resist seeing as it’s _right there_ , his hands are full of it at the moment. Adam yelps and bucks against him, their hips grinding together, and it’s electrifying for the both of them. 

“Get me upstairs and anything, Blake, anything you want, just please, god, hurry up.”

It’s Blake’s turn to groan and he steals another kiss, quick and hot and demanding before he’s pulling them away from the wall and toward the stairs. It takes a lot of effort to get them up to the bedroom, not only because Adam isn’t exactly light, but also because he doesn’t stop moving – hips, hands, his mouth on Blake’s neck. Blake almost drops him at the top of the stairs when his tongue flickers over that spot right behind Blake’s ear that sends a shiver rushing down Blake’s spine.

Once the bed is in sight and within reach, Blake really does drop him, right down onto the mattress, toeing out of his shoes before he follows Adam down. They make the coordinated shift back onto the bed until they’re laid out properly, Adam’s fingers tangling in Blake’s hair just as he’s diving in for another kiss. He has it stuck in his head now - _are you trying to kiss me until I come?_ \- and just the thought of it is making him throb, the idea of doing as little as possible and still making Adam lose his mind. Adam does it to him all the time; he doesn’t even have to try, not with his personality and how he oozes sexuality and confidence and arousal simply by existing. It drives Blake so completely insane sometimes he can’t even remember how to think, and to be able to knowingly turn it around on Adam for once would be so much more than thrilling.

“Blake,” Adam sighs, sounding breathless and a little far away, almost dreamy.

Blake’s mouth trails along Adam’s jaw, down the side of his neck, stopping to suck at his pulse point, a steady, rapid thump beneath his tongue. Adam is moving beneath him, his hips slowly rocking, a barely there motion that is just enough pressure to send little sparks of pleasure shooting all the way down to Blake’s toes. It’s torturous to pull away from that, but he does, tugging Adam’s shirt up and off over his head to get his mouth on that patch of skin he was teased with earlier. He feels Adam’s hands in his hair, a suggestive push to get Blake going in the right direction, moving on from Adam’s stomach to somewhere more interesting.

“Not happenin’,” Blake says with a grin, big hands sliding along Adam’s thighs, heat seeping through soft denim.

“God, you suck. Why can’t you suck a little bit more?”

So Blake does, sucks a deep red mark right below Adam’s navel as he unbuttons Adam’s jeans, tugs the zipper down. Adam keens loudly as Blake’s teeth sink into his skin, the bite just on the right side of pain that it makes him tug at Blake’s hair, press against Blake’s mouth, his hands. The marks on his stomach are still glistening when Blake slides away to peel off Adam’s jeans, and as soon as they’re gone, he’s wrapped up in another kiss, Blake’s mouth hot and hungry, insatiable.

Blake kisses him until he’s breathless and dizzy, full of frustration and impatience, a wire pulled tight and ready to snap. Kisses him until he’s loose and pliant again, worn down to putty in Blake’s hands. Kisses him until he’s suffocating and burning up, a thin layer of sweat covering his skin. Kisses him until he’s come full circle, his body filled with tension, ready to snap at any moment, from just the right touch. When Blake finally reaches down with one hand, wraps his fingers around Adam’s dick, he’s amazed at how slick it is, the amount of precome leaking from the tip. All it takes is one firm stroke and Adam is coming with a groan, shuddering apart beneath him.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Blake breathes, like he’s the one that just came instead of Adam, nuzzling his face against the side of Adam’s neck.

“Hey, that’s my line,” Adam says, still trying to catch his breath. When Blake doesn’t respond, Adam gives him a nudge, tugs on his hair. “Hey. Blake?” 

It takes some effort but Adam gets their positions reversed, straddling Blake’s lap, and it’s impossible to miss the way Blake’s jaw clenches, his sharp intake of breath at the press of Adam’s weight against his cock. 

Adam licks his lips and smirks, reaching for Blake’s fly. “I bet all I’d have to do is _breathe_ on you right now and you’d fucking lose it. Am I right?”

“ _Adam_.”

“Mm, let’s find out,” Adam replies, making the slide down Blake’s body.


	13. Day Thirteen - Eating Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A ridiculous little continuation of Day 12. Because why not.

“Son of a—That’s cold!”

“Hence the name _ice_ cream.”

“Do you have to eat it on me? The whole rest of the damn bed is empty. Look at that.”

“Mm, gotta say I’m pretty comfortable right here.”

Blake lets out a sigh, adjusts the pillow behind his head. He’s not exactly uncomfortable; he never is when Adam is on top of him in any way whatsoever. It’s just the dripping of the ice cream on his bare skin that is a nuisance at the moment. 

“Seriously?!” he says with a yelp when there’s another drip, bigger this time, right onto the center of his chest.

“Hey, stop complaining. You just kissed my face off. My mouth literally hurts. I deserve this ice cream moment.”

“You say that like you got nothin’ out of it.”

Adam sniffs. “That’s not the point.”

“What’s your point then?”

“The point _is_ , don’t complain,” he says and scoops up another bite of ice cream, holding it out for Blake. He’s laughing by the time Blake finally eats it with a glare on his face.

“If the point of that was for me to wear half of it, congratulations on a job well done.”

“It wasn’t, I’m sorry, I promise that wasn’t on purpose. Here, let me...” Adam sets his bowl carefully aside, leans down enough to suck the fallen ice cream from Blake’s skin, sweet mixing with salty under his tongue. When he sits back up, he looks very pleased with himself, grabbing his bowl again. “Better?”

“Uh…”

“As eloquent as ever, I see.”

Blake rolls his eyes, straightening his legs out beneath the sheets so Adam doesn’t have his knees to rest back against anymore. Adam almost falls backward for all of a second, catching himself before he and his bowl of ice cream topple over, his legs tightening on either side of Blake’s hips. 

“You gonna eat that or are you waitin’ for it to turn into soup?” Blake asks, his hands sliding up along Adam’s thighs, barely covered by the sheet, watching as Adam stirs the remaining ice cream in the bowl.

“What? Oh, this?” Adam asks, holding the spoon up, purposely letting it drip directly onto Blake’s chest this time, two large dollops that hit his skin and slide down. Blake grabs his wrist before he can do it again, and Adam grins, tipping the bowl forward in his other hand.

“Don’t you dare!”

“Think I won’t?”

“Adam…”

“You look so scared right now, it’s actually hilarious.”

Blake makes a grab for the bowl, Adam just a little bit quicker, sitting up on his knees to hold it up and out of his reach.

“If I drop it now, it’s landing on your head. Or down your back, one of the two,” Adam says with a little too much glee.

Blake lets out a groan - frustrated, exasperated, irritated - probably some mixture of all three, and wraps his arms around Adam’s waist, leaning in to rest his forehead against Adam’s chest. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?”

“Should’ve just let me keep going, I would’ve cleaned you up.”

“What, with your tongue?”

“What else?” Tipping his head back a little, Blake looks up at him through hooded eyes, catches Adam’s gaze. Adam gives him a small smile before he leans in and presses a kiss to his mouth, lingering for just a moment before he pulls back. “Ugh, no, I am not kissing you anymore, get away from me,” he says, shoving at Blake’s shoulder with his free hand.

Blake laughs and shifts beneath him, making another grab for the bowl just as he’s using his size advantage to tip Adam over. Adam shouts out a curse, smacking Blake in the shoulder with the spoon once he has settled on his back, Blake looming over him with the bowl.

“Now that I think about it,” he says, trailing a finger through the mostly melted ice cream and sucking it clean. “This really is very temptin’.”

“Do. _Not_.”

“I think I owe you a few, right? Just so we’re even?”

“Blake.”

The thing is, though, Adam has the spoon clutched in his fist, so when Blake tips the bowl to let some of the ice cream pour out, he has no control over how much falls. If it ends up being all that’s left, it’s not his fault. He can’t help the pull of gravity.

“Son of a _bitch_!”


	14. Day Fourteen - Out with Friends or Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s no big secret that Adam is a certified mama’s boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me, in my head, this is sort of like a prequel to [When the Right One Comes Along](http://archiveofourown.org/works/927975). But you don't have to read that one in order for this one to make sense. Also, I have no real reference when it comes to Adam's mom, so all of the liberties taken here.

It’s no big secret that Adam is a certified mama’s boy. He loves his mom more than anyone, ever, even has the tattoo to prove it. It doesn’t matter that he has to pretend that she doesn’t hate it (because she really, really hates it) he still wears it proudly. 

He’s also more than happy to spend as much time with her as he possibly can. He loves taking her out places when they are both able to go, lunch dates and Laker games, although he enjoys those a little bit more than she does. It’s just one of the many things she does to indulge him. They set lunch (or brunch) dates and Adam vows them unbreakable, never lets himself get too busy to spend time with his mom. He never wants to become that asshole. 

They have a few different places that they like to go, places where the paparazzi usually don’t catch them and they’re left to eat in peace. Why people would care about pictures of Adam sharing a meal with his mom, he has no idea, but it has happened before. At least most of the time, they’re undisturbed, able to talk and enjoy their time together just like anyone else.

This time though, Adam is unusually quiet where he’s normally chatty, cracking jokes and sharing stories. He answers questions when he’s asked but other than that offers little to the conversation, a little more lost in his own head than he even realizes.

“You know it worries me when you’re quiet.”

“I’m fine, mom. There’s nothing to worry about.”

“Do you remember what happened the last time you told me you were fine and that I shouldn’t worry?”

Adam sighs because yes, how could he forget? That had been back when he and Blake were dealing with the fact that their relationship was something that they couldn’t bear to walk away from, professional repercussions be damned. And while Blake and Miranda had been separated for months already, nearly a year by then, Blake felt it was time to finally make the official announcement, to let the world know that he was getting divorced. Adam picks at his salad, his appetite waning; it’s a time he doesn’t like to think about much, rocky and unsteady, terrifying as hell if he’s honest.

“It’s nothing like that, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s nothing at all, really. You’re being a mom right now.”

“What else am I supposed to be?” she asks, and Adam just shrugs. “Where is Blake today? I’ve been promised a date with him and I’m still waiting.”

There’s nothing on earth that could stop the smile from spreading across Adam’s face, and he ducks his head, taking a moment to wipe his mouth on a napkin. “He has tour rehearsals. I talked to him this morning and told him I was taking you out to lunch, he was pretty bummed to be missing out.”

“He works too hard. You both do, you two just work too hard.”

“I’ll let him know you’re scolding him about his career choices the next time I talk to him. And hey, let’s back this up a little bit, rewind, when did he promise you a date?”

“The last time he called me.”

“The last—how often does he call you?”

“Oh, you know, a couple of times a month. Just likes to check in, he says. He has such a pleasant voice for talking on the phone. It’s too bad he already has a career, he could have one in the phone business.”

“Oh my god, mom! Please tell me you did not just imply that Blake should be some kind of phone sex operator.”

“I did no such thing.”

“God. That’s just… horrifying. And really hilarious the more I think about it, shit. Shoot! Fuck, I’m sorry.” 

He tries really hard not to curse in front of his mom, but it’s so much a part of his every day vocabulary that sometimes it’s impossible to not slip up. She shoots him a disapproving look, and Adam goes back to picking at his salad. It’s loaded with so much crap, but he doesn’t want any of it. He regrets not ordering a sandwich. He really wants fat, something greasy, pizza, _french fries_ , anything but this healthy bullshit. Blake is the worst influence on him ever, but he can’t complain because it goes both ways; he gets great satisfaction out of listening to Blake bitch about eating healthy food and drinking smoothies instead of milkshakes. 

“Can I ask you a question?”

“Always.”

“When you and dad… God this is so fucking cliché, I hate myself. I’m sorry, you can smack me later! But how did you know? What made you think, oh my god he’s the one, this is really it?”

She doesn’t exactly answer his question, instead reaches across the table and takes hold of one of his hands. “It’s different for everyone, Adam. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just. I don’t think I have ever… You know how I am, how nothing really lasts with me. It starts out strong and then it’s just… gone for one reason or another. Fizzles out. I leave or they leave or we both just fuck off. But this feels different. This feels like nothing else ever has before. I can’t explain it. I’ve never felt it before, I don’t know what it is, I can’t describe it.”

The grip on Adam’s hand tightens and it feels like the same is happening to his heart, exhaling a shaky breath. He doesn’t know where the emotion is coming from all of a sudden, and he can’t look her in the face, takes a moment to get himself under control.

“I know love. I can say I’ve been in love before. And I know infatuation all too well. Who doesn’t? But this thing with Blake… I call it this thing like we aren’t in a real relationship now, but it’s something else entirely. It’s on a whole different level. A whole other planet. Find me some more extremes and I’ll keep going.”

“And you’re wondering if this is it for you? Oh honey, I think you already know.”

Adam chokes out a laugh and reaches up with his free hand, scrubbing at his eyes. Of course. Of fucking course. He squeezes his mom’s hand, brings it up to his lips to press a warm kiss to the back of it. He’s about to speak when he hears the muffled chime of his phone in his pocket, letting go of her hand long enough to dig it out. It’s a little surprising to see Blake’s name on the screen, and part of him wants to look around, see if he’s hiding somewhere because sometimes his timing is a little scary. He reads the message and laughs again, sliding his phone across the table for his mom to read.

‘ _Are you still at lunch? Tell Mama Levine I said hello! Buy her something good to eat, none of that healthy tasteless crap! She’ll just be hungry again in an hour like I usually am._ ’

“Still think he’s a keeper?” Adam asks, taking his phone back. 

“I’ll let you know if I ever get my date.”

Adam grins, types back a quick, ‘ _I love you_ ,’ and presses send. He can already see Blake’s confused, surprised, happy face in his mind at the message, but it’s okay. There’s no real elaboration needed, not right now.


	15. Day Fifteen - Trying an Extreme Sport

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Twelve grown men running around shooting balls of paint at each other with questionable supervision – what could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wikipedia says that paintball is indeed an extreme sport, so I took that and ran like hell with it. If you don't agree, take your arguments to them.

“I feel like you’re going into this with an enormous advantage over the rest of us,” Adam says as he zips up his sweatshirt. “Like, I think we need to handicap you somehow. Can we blindfold you? Tie one of your hands behind your back, maybe?”

Blake just laughs. “Blindfolded, Adam? How many times have I taken you hunting now? And how many of those times did you do your best to distract me? It’s not my fault you’ve had absolutely zero practice shootin’ a gun. That’s all on you.”

Adam huffs out a sigh. “Well! I think that’s different. We should at least be on the same team.”

“Doesn’t that take some of the fun out of it?”

“Fuck you then, loser. You’re going down, cowboy. Mark my words.”

When Blake laughs again, Adam wants nothing more than to shoot him right then and there, but it’s against the rules to fire their paintball guns anywhere besides on the field.

As soon as everyone has all of their gear on, paintball guns loaded and ready to go, they head outside. Twelve grown men running around shooting balls of paint at each other with questionable supervision – what could possibly go wrong?

What Adam lacks in skill, he makes up for in speed and agility. He’s not an easy target to hit; he’s also not afraid to get dirty, diving into the dirt behind protective barriers in the nick of time. Where Adam has more freedom to move around, Blake doesn’t, bigger and slower on his feet, having to time all of his movements just right or he’s a dead man standing. The only thing he has going for him is that when he shoots, he doesn’t miss. 

They play three different fields for almost four hours, each one with a different set of challenges and different terrain. It’s exhausting, it’s grueling, sometimes frustrating as fuck, but more than anything, it’s exhilarating. The most fun they’ve had in a long time.

“I can’t believe you shot me in the neck.” Blake has his gun and goggles in one hand, the other pressed to the side of his neck, splotched with paint. 

It was the very last shot of the day, Adam determined to get a good one in as he and Blake slowly moved closer and closer to each other across the field. Less than ten yards apart, Blake came up and fired, and as he was going back down, Adam fired back and landed the shot before Blake disappeared behind his barrier again.

“To be fair, I wasn’t exactly aiming for your neck. If you would’ve stayed still, it would have hit you in the chest.”

“I’m not supposed to just stand there and let you shoot me!”

“I’m just saying! I didn’t shoot you in the neck on purpose!”

When Blake moves his hand away, the skin is raised where the paintball hit, a bruise already starting to form. They don’t usually hurt as much when they hit from a safe distance and through clothing, but that little fucker is leaving its mark behind.

“I’m so sorry,” Adam says when he takes a closer look, wipes away some of the dirt and dried paint. “But I did say you were going down, didn’t I?”

“Givin’ me the equivalent of world’s worst hickey is not somethin’ to get cocky about.”

Adam can’t help but grin at that, bouncing a little on his toes. “I don’t know, I kinda think it is.” 

“Oh _stupid me_ , of course you would.”

“Are you getting mad because you lost? Because I totally beat your ass at something involving a gun? Is it driving you a little crazy right now? Bruising your precious little hunter, gatherer ego?”

“Adam, I swear to god—”

Adam cackles, entirely too pleased with himself, but it’s short lived when he sees Blake’s gun pointed directly at him. “Hey, whoa, no. Against the rules, remember? We aren’t on the field anymore, Shelton. Let’s keep this shit civilized.”

They get kicked out, but it’s totally worth it for the shot Blake fires and lands right on Adam’s ass.


	16. Day Sixteen - During Their Morning Ritual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Different types of mornings come with different routines.

01.

The obnoxious tone of the alarm going off is jarring, waking Adam from a dead sleep within seconds. There’s a dull ache throbbing in his temples, and he blindly smacks toward the bedside table but comes up empty handed. The phone must be on Blake’s side of the bed, and the longer it goes on, the more irritated Adam gets, jabbing an elbow into Blake’s ribs. It’s enough to finally wake him up and he makes a grab for his phone to silence the alarm, dropping it somewhere when they are blanketed in blissful quiet again. 

It’s freezing in the room, it always is when Blake is drunk and fucks with the thermostat before he passes out, and Adam shivers beneath the covers, irritated at that, too. He resists the urge to kick Blake’s ass out of bed, shifts a little closer to steal some body heat before they really do have to get up and get moving. He’s pretty sure Blake has already fallen back to sleep, his breathing deep and even, and it would be so easy to follow him back down, eyes closed, thinking about nothing…

The alarm starts blaring again, and Adam practically jumps out of his skin, right on the verge of drifting off to sleep. Blake must’ve pressed snooze instead of turning it all the way off, and Adam shoves at him again.

“Make it stop,” he bitches, pulling the covers up and over his head. 

It takes Blake a minute to find his phone again, but he does, finally, turning off that god awful sound. Adam can feel him stretching and shifting around next to him before his weight is gone from the bed, and Adam takes the opportunity to poke his head out of the covers and say, “turn the fucking heat up, for the love of god!” before Blake leaves the room.

Adam makes no attempts to move after that. He’s still freezing, his head still hurts, he hates mornings with a burning passion sometimes, why do they _always_ have to exist? He can’t even remember why they have to be up, figures it has something to do with the show but fuck, it sucks. He hears Blake come back in a few minutes later, setting something down on the bedside table and giving Adam’s hip a gentle shake beneath the covers.

“Shower,” is all Blake says before he’s gone again and Adam lets out a sigh, figures he can’t stall the inevitable any longer. He stretches long and hard, then finally emerges from his nest to find the room finally warming up; he also finds four ibuprofen and a bottle of water on the table, courtesy of Blake. He’s impossible to stay mad at, the jerk.

His shower feels like heaven, and once he’s out, he stares at himself in the mirror for a few moments, contemplates shaving before he decides fuck it, leaves it for yet another day. Teeth brushed, pants on, Adam finally makes his way downstairs where the kitchen smells like fresh coffee and something sweet that makes his stomach growl. 

Blake is standing at the counter with a plate of pancakes and a fork in hand, still sleepy eyed and deliciously rumpled in all of his hungover glory. He holds his fork out as Adam passes, offering up a bite that Adam takes. 

“Awesome,” Adam says after he chews and swallows, licking the syrup from his lips

“Would be better if you let me make you real pancakes,” Blake says, taking his next bite. Because Adam insists on whole wheat pancakes, something on the healthier side, and it has taken a little while for Blake to get them to taste better than shit. His words.

“You have made them for me before and I was useless for the next four hours,” Adam replies as he fixes up his own plate, pancakes stacked high because he’s starving and they really are delicious. “These are also real pancakes, as much as it pains you to admit it. What’d you put in them this time?”

“Banana and brown sugar.”

“Mm, this one’s a keeper.”

As Adam begins his own breakfast, he watches Blake finish what’s left of his, then scrub his hands over his face and rub his eyes, still fighting the pull of sleep. The coffee hasn’t quite kicked in yet, and Adam knows the battle won’t be won until Blake has had his shower. It’s adorable, really, with his crazy hair curling and going in every direction, eyelids heavy. How he manages to cook a decent breakfast without burning the house down, Adam will never know. He sure as hell couldn’t do it.

Before Blake can leave the kitchen, Adam grabs his arm and pulls him in for a kiss, sticky sweet and warm, letting it linger for a moment. 

“Morning,” he says when he eases back, licks his lips.

“Mornin’,” Blake replies with a sleepy smile, then shuffles out of the room, his mug of coffee in hand, the shower calling his name.

***

02.

Blake wakes up a good forty-five minutes before the alarm is set to go off. He stretches his heavy limbs and rubs the sleep from his eyes, letting out a jaw cracking yawn as he reaches over to the clock, killing the alarm before it has a chance to go off. The bathroom is calling his name, but he’s warm under the covers and the air in the room is chilly – just the way he likes it, but that doesn’t mean he’s eager to jump out into it. He looks over at the body stretched out next to him, also warm and even more inviting, lying on his stomach in a less than dignified sprawl. Blake weighs his options here, a quick trip to the bathroom winning in the end where he takes care of a very quick, abbreviated version of his morning routine - toilet, wash hands, brush teeth and mouth wash, completely ignore the razor sitting next to the sink. Then he’s sliding back into the bed, pressing against Adam who hasn't made any attempt to move at all yet, still dead to the world and drooling on his pillow.

His feet are freezing and he makes sure his hands are warm enough before he puts them on Adam’s skin. Blake molds himself to his back as Adam starts to shift more onto his side, snakes his arm around Adam’s waist as his mouth finds warm skin. He’s gotten pretty good at knowing when and where he can leave his marks, if they’ll show over the collars or the stretched out necks of Adam’s shirts or not. More often than not, he’s careful – they both are, but there have been days where one of them has had a not so pleasant (but still oh so amusing) sit down in the make up chair. It is worth it every single time.

Adam makes a sleepy, content humming sound as he nuzzles against his pillow, floating in that haze between being fully awake and drifting off to sleep again. Blake smiles against the back of Adam’s neck, his hand smoothing over Adam’s chest, down to the waistband of his boxer briefs. He lets his fingers trail back up, trace idle patterns around Adam’s navel as he drags his tongue over a fresh new mark that stands out bright among a line of others, each in a varying degree of faded colors. Blake pulls back enough to admire his handy work and feels Adam press back against him, clearly awake now but unwilling to give in just yet.

They’ve been dancing this dance long enough by now that Blake knows if he smooths the palm of his hand over Adam’s hip _just so_ , Adam will stretch, long and slow, before slowly rolling over onto his back. He’ll drag his fingers through Blake’s messy hair and tug his head down for a soft, sleepy kiss. Blake lets his hand continue to move along Adam’s body, the touch feather light over the curve of his side, more firm as finger tips trace around one nipple, then the other.

Adam’s eyes slowly flutter open just enough to see Blake smiling back at him, and Blake’s voice is soft when he says, “there you are.”

“Here I am,” Adam replies, his voice a thick, deeper than normal rumble from lack of use; it has easily become one of Blake’s favorite sounds, filed away on a list of many others he’s gathered over their time together so far.

Blake leans in for another kiss, and Adam reaches for him, pulls him even closer until Blake is stretched out on top of him. Adam wraps his arms up around Blake’s waist as the kiss deepens, sleep quickly giving way to hunger and passion and oh, Blake guesses it's going to be one of _those_ mornings. Adam’s hands slide down to Blake’s hips where they grip and hold on, mutual groans sounding into the kiss as they rock against each other.

“How much time do we have?” Adam asks, knows they’ll both be nothing but pissy if they start something they don’t have time to finish.

“Plenty,” Blake answers. Then Adam is shifting beneath him, rolling them over until he’s on top, and his grin is practically gleeful.

It’s quick, steady progress from simple roaming hands to grinding hips, sweat covering their skin under the covers, Adam coating Blake’s fingers with lube before they find their way inside his body. Adam moans softly, rocks himself against Blake’s hand, two fingers quickly leading to three, leading to Blake pressing into him and kissing away any sound that escapes his lips. They draw each kiss out until they’re both breathless, until Adam can’t keep up a good, steady rhythm, until they can’t ignore how much they both _want_ and _need_ anymore.

The advancement from almost lazy enjoyment of the moment to desperate need to get off is rapid; when Blake’s fingers wrap around Adam’s cock, he groans out loud, rocking back against Blake’s dick and into his hand, and with the escalading force of Blake’s thrusts up into him, Adam’s orgasm is drawn out of him in another wicked hot minute. Blake’s mouth comes crashing against his, and Adam whimpers into the kiss, swallowing Blake’s groan after his hips jerk hard, a shudder running through his body before he slowly, finally stills.

It takes a couple of minutes for heartbeats to calm back down and panting to slow to steady breathing, followed by hasty cleanup and sweat cooling on heated skin. Blake lets his eyes fall closed and convinces himself that he will _not_ fall back to sleep, one arm bent back behind his head, his other hand tangled in Adam’s unruly hair. 

They have some kind of promotional thing to do for the next season of The Voice, which it’s completely ridiculous considering they’re still in the middle of the current season. But the powers that be are insisting, especially with two new coaches, so they go with it and do what they’re told. At least they will be in a fabulous mood; they always are when their mornings start like this.

*** 

03.

For some reason, it’s so much easier to drag himself out of bed when Blake is away. For many reasons, actually – who the hell is he kidding?

Adam can hear his phone buzzing on the table a few feet away from him, but he ignores it for now, focusing instead on keeping himself balanced and centered. His body feels loose and well stretched, and when he bends into a new position, he lets out a long, deep breath. Excess stress drains away, an inner sense of peace taking its place. He would be lost without yoga, a total lunatic at best, and it is a must every single day that he makes the time to sweat out as much crazy as possible. 

It’s a little annoying when his phone starts buzzing again, and he wonders vaguely what the emergency might be, but no, this is _his time_. No one gets to interrupt this time, and he doesn’t even know why he has his phone in the same room anyway, it’s usually stashed away in his bedroom until he’s done. There’s another deep breath, a slow inhale leading to a release that’s just as slow, and then he changes position, sweat dripping into his eyes and muscles burning as they pull taunt. This one is good, this one hurts a little, but he likes it, he likes the challenge, to push himself just a little bit until he’s shaking by the time he’s ready to break position.

The third time his phone goes vibrating across the table, Adam curses out loud, crawling across the floor to snatch it up. 

“Hey, usually when people don’t answer the phone or call you right back, there’s a good fucking reason.”

“But I knew you were there so I don’t give a crap. What the hell are you doing?”

“I was _trying_ to do yoga. You know what I do first thing in the morning, Blake. Don’t play dumb.”

“Oh.” There’s a pause and then, “what position?”

“Stop picturing it, you asshole. How’s New York?” 

“It’s a nut-freezin’ 26 degrees right now, feels like 12 when the wind blows. 12 fuckin’ degrees, Adam.”

Adam can’t help but laugh, stretching out on his back on the floor. “First of all, stop watching the weather channel, you gigantic nerd. Second of all, it’s not like you’re doing the show outside.”

“It’s still bullshit. I think it’s supposed to snow tonight. Can you hear how thrilled I am about that?”

“Okay, seriously, get over the weather and focus on what’s important, which is learning your lines and not looking like a dumbass on tv come Saturday night.”

“Right, because you know all about that, don’t you? Adam ‘I’ll just read all of my lines off of the cards’ Levine.”

“You know what? Fuck you, dude. That shit’s hard. See if I try to give you any more pep talks.”

Blake laughs. “I’m sorry. I know I’ll probably end up doin’ the same damn thing. I’ll probably even end up forgettin’ how to read.”

“You won’t, though,” Adam says, pushing himself to sit back up. He knows how nervous Blake is, could practically feel the anxiety pouring off of him when he left for New York two days before. “You’re going to be great, Blake.”

“Yeah, I guess we’ll see. I gotta go, more rehearsals. I’ll let you get back to your routine.”

“All right. Knock ‘em dead, cowboy.” 

Once he hangs up the phone, Adam lets it rest on his chest, making no attempt to move from his spot on the floor just yet. His thoughts stay with Blake for a little while, feeling his own sense of anxiety for what Blake is about to do. It’s a huge deal, but he knows Blake can do it and he knows Blake can do it better than most people. The more he thinks about it, the more anxious he gets, undoing all of the good he did with what little yoga he was able to do before he was interrupted. He pushes himself up, and with a visible shake, heads back over to his mat, gets himself ready for round two.


	17. Day Seventeen - Trying to Be Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As more time has passed, it only seems to make sense that the probability of them getting caught would increase as well.

“How long does it take to unlock a door?” Adam asks as Blake fumbles with his keys. 

“You’re not helpin’ this situation at all,” Blake replies because Adam is plastered to his back, and he won’t stop _touching_. 

The show had been amazing that night, full of stellar performances and spirits high. They’re feeling good, maybe a little bit too good, overindulging at the after party, but at least they had the sense of mind to get the hell out of there before all of those heated looks turned into something physical. 

Adam grins against the back of Blake’s neck. “Insert key,” he murmurs, pressing himself fully against Blake’s backside with a slight thrust, his hands on Blake’s belt. “And _twist_.”

Blake lets out a curse before he finally gets the door unlocked, pushing it open so the two of them can stumble inside. The door slams closed at the same moment Blake is turning around, pressing Adam back against it as he claims his mouth in a deep kiss. Adam's hands are still on his belt, getting it unbuckled and yanking it from around his waist, letting it fall to the floor with a clatter when he throws it aside.

There’s a mad dash up the stairs when they finally move away from the door, unable to get to the bed fast enough. As soon as Adam’s back hits the mattress, Blake is ripping his jeans down and off, and Adam lets out a groan when Blake gets his mouth where they both want it, right on Adam’s cock.

It’s so good, Blake is so into it, enthusiastic and eager, and Adam buries his fingers in salt and pepper hair, content to hold on for this ride, let Blake take him apart if that’s what he wants so badly. He has no plans to stop Blake for a second until a muffled sound cuts through the pleasure haze and forces his eyes open, his ears straining to hear more.

“D’you hear that?” he asks, fingers tightening in Blake’s hair for a second.

“No?” Blake replies, confused, like Adam has suddenly lost his mind. But he gets it a moment later because then they both hear it, the opening and closing of the front door.

“That,” Adam hisses. “Did you hear _that_?”

It’s like a rush of ice water through their veins, the heat of the previous moment dissipating in an instant. Blake is up off of the bed in the blink of an eye, hands shaking as he buttons up his shirt.

“Shitshitshit fuck,” Adam says, his voice a harsh whisper, and they’re both trying their hardest to be as quiet as possible as they get back into their clothes. “ _What the fuck_?”

“I don’t know! She’s not—This wasn’t supposed to happen,” Blake whispers back, scrubbing a hand through his hair. He can only imagine what he must look like, has no idea what the hell he’s going to say. “Just… bathroom until I say otherwise all right? And be quiet.”

Adam nods and makes a beeline for the bathroom, closing the door behind him as silently as he possibly can. He feels sick, thinks he’s in the best possible place because he might actually throw up any second now. It’s not like they didn’t know what they were doing, have been all too aware of their infidelity. But they have also been doing this for a long time now, longer than they should probably admit to, and as more time has passed, it only seems to make sense that the probability of them getting caught would increase as well.

He doesn’t know how long he sits on that cold tile floor, curious to know what’s happening downstairs but too afraid to move a single muscle to try to find out. When his phone eventually vibrates in his pocket after a while, he jumps out of his skin, irrationally terrified that that muffled sound would be enough to give up his location. Surprisingly enough, when he checks the message, it’s from Blake.

‘ _It’s time. We have to tell them_.’

Adam closes his eyes for a moment, swallows hard against the lump in his throat. This is it. Everything changes after this. 

‘ _Do what you have to do._ ’

He presses send and waits.


	18. Day Eighteen - Doing Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam drives for an hour, takes them somewhere with a spectacular view before he finally pulls off of the road and kills the engine.

“Will you do this with me, please?”

“No.”

“ _Please_?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, just one time.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Just once and I’ll never bug you about it again.”

“You can keep on askin’ me, but my answer isn’t going to change.”

“Why the hell not? Are you really that scared? Seriously? Don’t be such a wuss, Blake.”

“Fear has nothin’ to do with it.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re nothing but a 6-foot-5 baby pussy chicken. Pathetic. Poor excuse—”

“I know what you’re doing—”

“—for a man. Just sad, really.”

“—and it’s not gonna work.”

“I’m revoking your man card, right here, right now. You no longer have one. I’m replacing it with a pussy chicken card. Congratulations.”

Blake just sighs.

*** 

Adam gets them away from the busiest LA streets as quickly as he possibly can. He knows Blake is sitting behind him, probably cursing the day he was born, and getting stuck in any kind of traffic or a run in with paparazzi would only make it worse. 

It feels better than he thought it would, having Blake behind him on his motorcycle. He’s a solid wall of heat against his back, strong arms wrapped around his waist. Blake’s legs are almost too long for him to sit back there comfortably, but they make it work, and at every stop, Adam reaches back, grabs onto a calf, a knee, lets his hand slide down a hard thigh if he’s feeling bold. 

They make it out of the city proper and head toward higher elevation. Adam drives for an hour, takes them somewhere with a spectacular view before he finally pulls off of the road and kills the engine. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” Adam asks as they both climb off the bike, removing helmets and sunglasses.

Blake makes a show of stretching out his legs. “I saw many bugs meet their deaths on the lenses of my glasses.”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Seriously?”

“I guess it wasn’t terrible,” Blake finally admits.

“I know it’s killing you to say that to me,” Adam says with a smile, grabbing hold of one of Blake’s hands. “But you should know how happy I am right now. So happy, in fact…”

Adam kisses him, right there out in the open. Kisses him long and slow, deepens it with the hot swipe of his tongue, scrapes his teeth over Blake’s bottom lip. 

Anyone could drive by at any time and see them making out on the side of the road, never mind the fact that they hadn’t passed any other vehicles in a long while. It’s still a thrill, a huge rush, and when the kiss breaks, their hearts are beating so hard, so fast, it’s dizzying.

“Thank you for doing this.”

“You should’ve mentioned the makin’ out part, I probably wouldn’t have resisted so much.”

Adam laughs, shakes his head a little, draping one of his arms up around Blake’s neck as he pulls him in for another quick kiss. “So easy to please.”

“Well, yeah, most of the time.”

“Do you need something to make the ride home a little easier?”

“Why, what’re you thinkin’? Do I even want to know?”

As he walks his bike into the cover of the trees, Adam feels like his heart is about to pound right out of his chest. And as he picks the biggest of the trees to shove Blake up against and drop down to his knees, Adam can’t remember the last time he felt so alive.


	19. Day Nineteen - In Formal Wear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Well, what do you think?”
> 
> “I think you look… stunning. Fit for a wedding. You clean up nice, Levine.”

“I can’t believe y’all are actually gonna do this,” Blake says from his spot on the bed as he watches Adam get dressed. 

“Well believe it, baby, ‘cause it’s happening.”

“Try to pull something like this in Texas and you’d probably get shot by some disgruntled dad all up in arms wonderin’ who the hell these jackasses are bargin’ in on his baby girl’s big day and ruinin’ everything he paid good money for.”

Adam can’t help but laugh as he pulls on sleek black pants. “Okay, well, first of all, this isn’t Texas. Second of all… you’re ridiculous.”

“What’re you gonna do if you walk into one of these things and they all think you’re nothin’ but a giant douche nozzle? Wouldn’t that just completely suck? I mean, for everyone?”

“Do you want me to punch you in the balls? Seriously, what’s your deal?” Adam asks, pulling his shirt off of the hanger. It’s blindingly white, crisp and clean, ironed to perfection. 

Blake laughs, sliding to the edge of the bed. “Someone has to ask the tough questions, think about how this whole thing could blow up in your face.” 

“The amount of faith you have in me is completely overwhelming, Blake. Thank you so much.”

There’s no way Blake could miss the sarcasm in Adam’s voice, but he grins anyway, reaches out and hooks his fingers into the waistband of Adam’s pants, tugging him closer. “You’re welcome. That’s what I’m here for.”

Adam just shakes his head with a sigh, his arms hanging down at his sides as Blake starts buttoning up his shirt for him. 

“What if one of the brides decides she can’t get married after all ‘cause you’re there and she has a massive crush on you and _oh my god_ , what if this is her big chance? That would just be super awkward, right?”

“I am really going to hit you in about five seconds,” Adam says, smacking at Blake’s hands because he’s stopped buttoning and instead has been stroking Adam’s stomach, and he doesn’t have enough time to get distracted. “And anyway, we’re not crashing the actual wedding ceremony, we’re only crashing the reception. There’s a big difference.”

Shirt buttoned and tucked in, Adam grabs his bow tie and positions it around his neck, the two ends hanging down. “Do you know how to tie these things?”

“Nope.”

“Useless,” Adam sighs, leaving it hanging for now. He can do it, just not very well, figures someone else can tie it for him properly before they start filming. 

“Hey, what if—” Blake starts just as Adam sits next to him to pull on his socks and shoes, but Adam stops him, cuts him off with balled up socks to the back of the head.

“Blake! God. I’m nervous enough as it is, you really aren’t helping.”

“I’m sorry. You know I’m just messin’ with you. Y’all wouldn’t have been given the okay to do this if there was a chance it’d be a real problem, you know that.” Adam doesn’t respond, just slips on his shoes. When he pushes himself up to stand, Blake makes a grab for one of his hands, hooking their fingers together. “It’s going to be amazing, Adam. Just like everything else you do is. I’m sure everyone is gonna love you. And if they didn’t before, they will after this. How could they not?”

Adam gives Blake’s hand a squeeze before he reaches for his jacket, the final piece. He gives himself a once over in the mirror, then turns back to Blake, holding his arms out. 

“Well, what do you think?”

“Do you really need to ask?”

“Humor me.”

Blake pushes himself up, closes the little bit of distance between them. He slides his hands over Adam’s shoulders, down along the front of his jacket. “I think you look… stunning. Fit for a wedding. You clean up nice, Levine.”

Adam grins faintly, leaning up to press a kiss to Blake’s mouth. “Thank you.”

“Keep your eyes peeled for any over-eager brides or bridesmaids. I was serious about that crush thing.”

“You have nothing to worry about, Blake. No one has a chance with me but you.”

“You’re damn right.”


	20. Day Twenty - Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Homecoming. A little more than just a football game and a stupid dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another high school AU revisit. This takes place shortly after the events of [Going Wild Child](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1046301), so you'll want to read that one first if you haven't already.

It’s been a week, and Adam can’t say a lot has changed. Sure, he has traded his cigarettes in for a refill on his Adderall prescription, and he hasn’t missed a single class so far. He can’t even say he hates that as much as he thought he would, but that probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s been talking to Blake every day both in and out of school and that’s just the effect Blake has on him. 

All right, so maybe a lot has changed because if someone would have asked Adam a week ago if he was happy, he would have said no, absolutely not, what the fuck does he have to be happy about? Ask him now and he’d maybe consider saying yes. He’s getting there, at least, and that’s something. That’s a pretty big deal.

Blake seeks him out again and finds him under the bleachers about ten minutes into their lunch period. Adam lets out a visible huff when he notices Blake heading in his direction and removes the buds from his ears, turning off his iPod.

“You're totally killing my hiding spot, man.”

“It doesn't have to be only yours,” Blake points out.

“What's up, hiding from Miranda again?”

“I don't really wanna talk about it,” Blake grumbles, leaning back against a post. 

Adam rolls his eyes; it's pretty much a default reaction to most things Blake. “I'll take that as a yes, and since homecoming is next week, I'm assuming the heat is still on for you to ask her. Dude, here's an idea: why don't you just tell her no? You do have the ability to do that, you know. You don't always have to do what everyone else wants you to do. If she’s your friend, she’ll understand.”

“That's just what I'm used to doin', I guess. I don't want to let people down.”

“But you're fine with being unhappy instead? How much sense does that make?”

Blake just shrugs in lieu of answering and shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Adam lets out a sigh and pushes himself up to stand, resisting the urge to smack Blake upside his hard head.

“All right, tell me this. If you could do anything you wanted to right now, not thinking about anyone else, what would you do?”

Adam watches as Blake bites at his bottom lip while he thinks, his eyes on Adam. Then he's taking a quick glance around just to make sure they're really alone, that no one is heading in their direction, before he crowds Adam back behind the nearest post and presses their mouths together. This is the first time they have kissed, or done anything at all, since the week before. Adam was beginning to wonder if it might have been a fluke because it’s the one thing they haven’t really talked about yet, either, but Blake just answered that question.

The kiss is soft, slow, until Adam deepens it with the tilt of his head, the press of his tongue. They don't draw it out for very long, neither of them sure enough that they won't get caught, but Adam is smiling into the kiss by the time Blake pulls away.

“Wow. I think you should definitely be selfish more often,” he says, and Blake lets out a soft chuckle as he drags a hand through his hair. 

“I guess I’ll leave you alone, give you your hidin’ spot back.”

Adam reaches out, hooks a finger in one of the pockets of Blake's jeans. “What, you're just gonna kiss me and run away? I see how it is.”

Blake ducks his head with a smile, feet shuffling as he steps just a little bit closer again, voice dipping down low. “No, it's just… I think if I stay out here, I'll just want to do it more and that's probably not a very good idea right now.”

The admission makes Adam smile, not to mention the way his heart practically soars like something straight out of a cheesy romance novel, and he nods his head. “Yeah, I get it,” he agrees, then gives Blake a playful shove backward. “Get outta here.”

“I'll see you later,” Blake says, flashing a small grin as he starts to walk away, back toward the school.

“Sure. Oh, hey Blake?”

“Yeah?” he asks, turning back for a moment.

“Want your gum back?”

Blake blushes because he didn't even _notice_ , what the hell, but he shakes his head, taking a couple of steps backward. “Nah, you keep it.”

Adam grins because he was planning on it. “Cool.”

Blake hasn't been gone a full minute before Adam hears, “was that that Shelton guy?” as his buddy James swings down from one of the beams on his other side. Adam literally jumps out of his skin, his heart now pounding hard in his chest because he had no idea James was there, fucking hell. Now all he can think about is, _what did he see? What did he hear?_

“Jesus fuck, James! Give me a heart attack why don't you?”

“Sorry, man,” James says with a laugh. “You hanging out with him now?”

“Uh, yeah, that was Blake. I've known him forever. Not a big deal.”

“Never seen you talk to him before.”

Adam just shrugs; while he's starting to think maybe James didn't see anything after all, he still feels like he could puke from the fear alone. “We weren't really friends for a little while, but we've been catching up. Did you come out here just to scare me and talk about jocks?”

“Nope, came out here to tell you Jesse and me are getting hooked up big time after school if you want in. I'm talking really good shit, bro.”

In other words, does he want to buy some weed and spend the next week fucked up with little memory of it? It's a tempting offer, it really is. But then he thinks about Blake and the fact that he's actually trying to stay out of trouble and figures that would be the worst decision he could possibly make at the moment.

“You know what, I think I'm good, dude. Thanks for offering, though.”

James just looks at him like he’s crazy because this is the first time Adam has ever turned him down before. “Seriously? I mean, are you buying from someone else now or something? Because if you are, I can guarantee it’s not as good as what we're about to get.”

“No, I'm just. I'm supposed to be staying out of trouble,” Adam says and picks up his bag to sling over his shoulder. “I just don't want to blow it.”

“Whatever you say. You have my number if you change your mind.”

There’s a quick exchange of bro-hugs before Adam heads back to the main building; lunch doesn’t end for another ten minutes or so, but he still feels shaken up and needs the time to calm his nerves. He pulls out his phone as he walks toward his advanced music theory class, shooting Blake a quick text asking if they can talk after school. Blake’s reply comes almost instantly saying he has practice but he’ll come over as soon as he’s done. 

Adam’s unease follows him around for the rest of the day, making it difficult to put complete focus on his schoolwork. It dawns on him on his way home that he’s more worried for Blake’s sake than his own because Adam’s done enough stupid shit that he doesn’t really care what people think of him anymore. Plus it’s not like Blake is the first guy he has ever kissed, just the first one he’s ever been interested in. Blake is the first person he has cared about in general. 

But Blake is also quarterback of the football team, and while he has never worn that title like it makes him something special, in their social world at school, he kind of is held to a higher standard. He’s got people that look up to him, people that think he’s awesome, girls that flock after him simply because he wears a jersey and a letterman’s jacket. If rumors started swirling around that he could possibly be into guys, he would be done for.

True to his word, he shows up at Adam’s house fresh from the shower after practice, backpack slung over one shoulder to make an attempt at homework. They grab some food from the kitchen because Blake is always starving before settling in Adam’s room, books spread across the floor while they eat sandwiches. 

“Should I be worried?” Blake asks before he sucks a mixture of strawberry jelly and peanut butter from his thumb.

“About what?”

“Just, your text earlier about wanting to talk and you haven’t really said anything since I got here. I don’t know, I just want to be prepared, I guess, if you’re about to give me some bad news.”

Adam takes the time to clear the peanut butter coating his mouth with half a glass of cold milk before he speaks again. “Dude, no. I just think we should talk about what we’re doing. Right? Because I think we’re kind of tip-toeing around it for whatever reason, but it’s a pretty big deal, don’t you think?”

It takes Blake a minute to answer because obviously peanut butter and jelly sandwiches are not conversation food, especially not the way they make them piled so full of filling that it drips from the sides. When he’s done wiping his mouth, he turns his attention to the napkin in his hands, avoiding Adam’s gaze for the moment. “Right. It did happen kinda fast. I just,” Blake pauses, frowns a little. “I don’t know what to say about it. I mean, what do you want me to say?”

“Blake, before that night when I kissed you, I didn’t even know you could possibly be into guys. I was fully expecting you to hit me and throw me out after I did that, I swear to god. And then the next morning… Well. You’re right when you said it happened fast. That part was probably a little too fast, but I don’t regret it.”

“Why’d you do it, if you really thought I was gonna punch you?”

Adam shrugs, picking at what’s left of his sandwich. “Because a very small part of me hoped. We used to be closer than normal, I think our friendship has always been a little bit different, so I thought _maybe_.” Letting out a sigh, he pushes his plate aside, suddenly no longer hungry. “Look, I’m not asking you to sit here and gush about your feelings or some shit. I just think it would be a good idea if we figure out where we stand with each other. My friend James showed up right after you left this afternoon and scared the hell out of me because I wasn’t sure if he saw or heard anything, and if he asked questions, I wouldn’t have been able to answer him either way.”

Blake’s head shoots up at that, his eyes wide, face automatically going pale. “Did he…”

“No, I’m pretty sure he didn’t.” Adam watches as Blake physically deflates in relief, and while he understands the feeling, it doesn’t give him a clearer picture as to what it is Blake wants, or what they’re doing together. “So you gotta talk to me here, man. You kissed me for a reason. Is that your way of telling me you want us to be more than just friends or are you doing a little experimenting or… what?”

“I kissed you because I wanted to, I don’t--” Blake drags both of his hands through his hair, scrubs at his face. “This is new to me, alright? I don’t exactly know what it is I’m doin’ here. I do know that I’m not interested in being with anyone else ‘cause I can’t think about anyone other than you, whatever that means.”

Adam grins faintly; he has to admit really likes the sound of that. “We don’t have to jump straight into anything, you know. Nothing serious. I just wanted to know what was going on in that big ol’ head of yours. We can figure this out together, keep it just between the two of us. We make a good team, you and me. We always have, right?” he asks, reaching out to take one of Blake’s hands, hooking their fingers together.

“Yeah. As long as you don’t bail on me again,” Blake replies with a smirk, barely ducking out of the way in time when Adam takes a swing at him with his free hand. They end up tumbling to the floor, taking one swift roll that leaves Adam flat on his back with a horrified expression on his face. “Oh shit,” Blake says, trying his best not to laugh. “Sandwich?”

“Yep.”

***

“You're gonna come to the game tonight, right?” Blake asks in a whisper as he sinks down into a chair across from Adam in the library during another lunch period.

Adam does the only thing he can think of to do - he looks behind him to see if Blake might possibly be talking to someone else. “Oh wait, were you asking me?”

“Yes, dumbass.”

“Why on earth would I want to do that?”

“It's Homecoming, the last game of the year. My last game ever. And because I'm askin' you to?”

Adam resists the urge to sigh and props his chin on his hand. They simply stare at each other across the table for a long, lingering moment or two before he finally says, “yeah, okay.”

Blake grins. “Thank you. That really means a lot to me,” he says as he stands up, leaving Adam to his work while he goes to hunt down the rest of his friends because he has one more thing to take care of that he’s been putting off for too long now.

He has been so sick of talking about it; _when are you going to ask, Blake? Why haven't you asked yet, Blake? What's the deal, Blake?_ He knows he has only made it worse by drawing it out like this, but he has been so scared of making a decision and letting people down, that it has been easier to just avoid.

Not any more.

In the lunchroom, he finds Miranda and Luke with the rest of their crowd sitting at their usual table. He takes a seat across from Ran, flashes a smile, and gets a less than amused look in return. She never takes bullshit from him, ever, and he’s a little surprised she hasn’t ripped him a new one by now.

“Can we talk for a minute?” he asks, reaching across to snag a chip from her bag.

She smacks at his hand before answering. “I don’t know, can we?”

“I know you’re mad at me for not askin’ you to be my date to the dance, and I don’t blame you. The truth is I’ve had a lot of other stuff on my mind, and I just don’t really feel much like going. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“I’m not really _mad_ , just… bummed, I guess,” she says with a sigh. “I know I can’t make you ask me to do anything with you after the last time we broke up, but I just thought we were good enough friends that you’d want to anyway.”

“Hey, we are friends. You’re one of my best friends, you know that. Who else do I have that busts my balls like you do?”

That finally earns him a smile and he grins in return, until he feels an elbow in his ribs and Luke is butting in, saying why don’t they all just go to the dance as a group? It puts Blake on the spot, which he fucking hates, and he’s stuck in another one of those positions where he just can’t say no. So he finally agrees, says sure, whatever, it could be fun for them to all just hang out for a little while, regardless of the fact that Blake doesn’t dance and he really, really doesn’t want to go.

*** 

Running onto the field for the game that night, Blake is feeling the nerves more than he has in a really long time, and he knows it’s because Adam is sitting in the stands. For all he knows, this is the first and only time Adam will ever get to see him play and that means the world to him. It also makes him exceedingly nervous because he wants to be _good_ , wants to be the best he has ever been, doesn’t want to do anything too stupid so Adam will be impressed with what he sees. It’s ridiculous, he knows that, can even hear Adam calling him a giant dork in his head, but he can’t help it. 

Blake doesn’t look for him the entire first half, afraid if he can find him, if he knows where Adam is sitting, his focus might slip. But once halftime comes, he can’t stop himself from scanning the crowd, and it turns out Adam is pretty easy to find sitting dead center with both his parents and Blake’s. 

It’s a hard played game; both teams give their all, hit hard, and Blake even has to pick himself up off the ground a few times. When they stop going to huddle and Blake’s calling the plays from the line as the final minutes of the game wind down, he has no time to think about anything other than moving down the field in the most effective way possible. He doesn’t have time to think about the fact that he might miss this, the rush he feels when plays connect perfectly, when he passes to Luke twenty, thirty yards down the field and he catches it like there aren’t three other guys trying to intercept. And then the elation he feels when they score the final touchdown of the game with less than a minute left on the clock and there’s no way the other team can make up the difference in points. There’s no time to think about missing those things in that moment, but it’ll come later on.

He knows he pissed off more than a few people when he made the decision to not play football in college. Especially when it was drilled into his head that the only way he could get into college at all was on a football scholarship because his grades surely weren’t good enough for shit. But go play football and free ride, son. Given the fact that Blake would rather make himself miserable than let the people around him down, it’s quite a shock that he has been able to stick to his guns on this one, that he’s been able to make the decision to carve his own path through life rather than doing things the easy way. He just hopes someday someone will be proud of him for that.

Running off of the field after their last play, Blake takes off his helmet and shakes out messy, sweaty curls before he turns his attention to the stands again. He finds Adam easily, on his feet and cheering along with the rest of the crowd after their last touchdown, and Blake points up at him with a wide grin once he gets to the sidelines. Adam flips him off in return until his mom smacks him upside the head for his rude gesture, and Blake can’t stop himself from laughing out loud. He lets himself believe that even across the distance, Adam can hear him and that’s why he’s scowling.

*** 

The next evening as Blake is getting ready to leave for the dance, his mom knocks on his bedroom door. It’s already partially open so she peaks her head inside and asks if she can come in; he gives her a nod as he sits down on the edge of the bed, slipping on his shoes.

“You look handsome,” she says with a smile as she leans against the doorframe. Blake just rolls his eyes, tying his shoelaces. “Is Adam going to be there?”

“Yeah, right. Adam doesn’t do dances. I didn’t want to go, either, but I got talked into goin’ with a group of friends.”

“Is Miranda one of those friends?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Blake answers and stands up, smoothing out his pants. “But we’re just friends, so don’t go gettin’ any idea about us gettin’ back together again ‘cause it ain’t happening.”

“You never know what might happen. I’ve heard you say that before, haven’t I?”

Blake rolls his eyes and grabs his wallet, slipping it into his back pocket before he snags his jacket from the back of his desk chair. “Mom. It’s not going to happen, all right? Just. Trust me on this one.”

She gives him a warm smile and steps up in front of him, reaches out to straighten his tie. “I do trust you, as long as you’re happy. Have a good time tonight. Be safe.”

“I will. Love you,” he says, then heads out the door.

It seems very date-like to be giving Miranda a ride to the dance, but since her house is on the way there, it was argued that it made since to pick her up on his way. She’s beautiful in her pink and yellow sundress, her hair done up just right, and he tells her as much; they may not be dating anymore, but that doesn’t mean he has stopped caring about her. They have been off and on again since their sophomore year, and in some ways, besides Adam, she knows him better than anyone else does. It would be impossible for him to stop being her friend.

Ever since this thing with Adam started, it has made Blake wonder if that might be the reason why things could never really work out right with Ran. Sure, they fought a lot and over really stupid things; they’re really good at pushing each other’s buttons and if they’re worked up just right, that’s the first thing they go for because they know it’s going to get the desired effect. But now, there’s a part of him wondering if it was never meant to work out with her at all because that’s not who he really is.

He has also started to wonder if he might be a little obsessed because no matter what he does, he can’t get Adam out of his head. Adam is the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up in the morning, the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep every night. That probably explains the dreams and the embarrassing amount of laundry he’s had to do lately, but he can’t help it. He just can’t _stop_. It’s all so intriguing and terrifying and he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing with his life anymore, but just because he can’t stop doesn’t mean he would if he could. 

Even now at the dance he wonders what Adam is doing, if he’s out with his friends or if he’s sitting at home alone playing Call of Duty or some other random video game. Blake thinks about sending him a text, but then he’s afraid if Adam answers, if they start a back and forth, he won’t be able to stop that, either. He lets Luke spike a couple of his glasses of punch while he sits along one of the far walls of the gym and watches everyone else have a good time. Miranda drags him out onto the dance floor for one of the slower songs, insisting on just one and then she’ll leave him alone. His thoughts wander again and he pictures the guitar sitting in the corner of Adam’s room, wonders if Adam could play this song, if he can even play at all or if the guitar is just there for decoration. Then he feels like a complete asshole for thinking about him while dancing with her, and he really needs to get out of here already.

“Hey. You’re a hundred miles away from here right now, aren’t you?” Miranda asks, tipping her head back to look up at him.

 _Not quite that far_ , he thinks before answering. “Nah, I’m just distracted, I guess. I’ve had a lot on my mind lately that I’m tryin’ to sort out.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“I don’t think so. It’s all me stuff, you know? I’ll figure it out.”

“Well, I’m here for you if you ever need to talk about anything. Sometimes it helps to get stuff out in the open instead of havin’ it all bottled up inside. Just remember that.”

“I will. Thanks, Ran.”

He manages to last _almost_ an hour and a half before he can’t stand it anymore, being stuck in this place with entirely too many people, cheesy music blaring over the speakers every other song, the notion that this is somehow supposed to be fun. Not to mention the itch that he can’t scratch, like Adam has somehow managed to claw his way under Blake’s skin simply to drive him crazy. Another second spent in this gym and he will lose his mind, he just knows it, and so he bails with apologies to everyone. He’s sorry, he really is, only he’s not because jesus, he has to _go_. As soon as he’s sure Miranda will have a way to get home, he can’t get out of there fast enough. 

Once the night air hits him, he feels less like he’s suffocating, but that doesn’t slow him down any. He peels out of the school parking lot and takes the all too familiar route back in the direction of his house. As much as he would love to shatter every single posted speed limit sign along the way, he thinks one run in with the cops is more than enough for him right now if he can help it. He leaves his truck parked in the yard in front of his house before taking off down the street, his sights set on Adam’s house, hoping he’s even there because Blake has no idea what the hell he’s going to do if Adam is gone for the night.

There’s a huge sigh of relief when he hears the faint sounds of a video game through Adam’s closed window, and it takes a couple of tries at knocking for the sound to finally pause. A few seconds later, the window is opening and Blake wastes no time climbing through.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the dance right now?” Adam asks as he closes the window again.

“Fuck the dance,” Blake replies and crowds Adam back against the wall, leaning in to claim his mouth in a kiss.

It's deep from the word go, Blake parting Adam's lips with his tongue, getting a hand around the back of Adam's knee to hike his leg up and press their bodies even closer. Adam groans softly into the kiss as Blake gets right down to business, and with the way they’re pressed together hip to hip, he’s left with no doubt about where Blake’s head is right now. His fingers curl in the back of Blake's jacket, his other hand making its way into curly hair as Blake's teeth scrape over his lower lip, the need to breathe quickly becoming too much to ignore.

“Oh my _god_ ,” Adam says with a gasp when his mouth is finally freed.

“Who's home?” Blake asks, shrugging out of his jacket.

“Uh… Everyone?”

“Gonna have to be quiet then,” Blake replies with a small, wicked grin.

“Oh, fuck. Hang on!”

Adam pushes him away, slides from between Blake and the wall to make sure his door is locked, turn off his TV and turn on some music. Blake loosens the knot on his tie as he watches Adam mess with his stereo, adjusting the volume until it’s just right in the hopes that they won’t be disturbed. He knows they agreed to take things slow and they have been, they’ve barely touched each other, but he’s _seventeen_ ; he can’t just automatically stop wanting. And the more he thinks about, the more he wants, and it’s a never ending cycle that leaves him jerking off in the shower more often than not. It isn’t like Adam makes it easy for him, either, what with his cocky little smirks and suggestive comments, his fucking tight jeans that make Blake stare more than he should even though he thinks they’re stupid. When Adam turns back around, his gaze lingers on Blake’s hands as he slips the tie from around his neck, and when their eyes meet again, he’s flashing one of those little smirks and oh, _it is on_.

“I know we’re supposed to be takin’ things slow, but…” Blake says, fingers popping open the first button on his shirt, then the second.

“You came in here and jumped me; you think I’m gonna tell you to stop now?” Adam replies, closing the distance between them. He gets his hands on the front of Blake’s shirt, undoes the next button in line before he asks, “Can I?”

Blake nods his head yes as he pulls Adam in for another kiss, hands cupping the sides of his face while Adam works on getting all of the buttons undone. He has to untuck the shirt from Blake’s pants to get to the last couple, and once he’s done, once Blake’s shirt is gone, they take careful steps toward the bed, Blake toeing out of his shoes in the process. He has no idea what’s going to happen exactly once they hit the bed, but Blake can’t say he really cares as long as he gets his hands on Adam’s skin, as long as Adam touches him right back. 

Afterward, when they’re both sated and still a little sticky, Blake’s mind is still reeling over the fact that he just had Adam’s hand on his dick; he also has no idea how he’s going to cope with the fact that his own hand is never going to be the same again after this experience. With a quick glance to the side, he sees Adam lying still with an arm thrown across his eyes, the pink flush lingering on his skin. Blake wonders for a moment or two if he’s freaking out right now or maybe just falling asleep – the chances of either one are equally as likely. 

Rolling over onto his stomach, Blake grabs hold of a pillow. “Hey,” he says softly, voice barely above a whisper, propping himself up on his elbows.

Adam’s arm slides away, up over his head, his eyes blinking open as he looks over at Blake. “Sup?”

“Just seein’ if you fell asleep or not.”

“No, I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, I’m really good,” Adam replies, cracking a small smile. 

Blake can’t help but smile right back, hair falling into his eyes when he ducks his head. “So this might sound really stupid, but I’m gonna say it anyway. Thanks for going to the game last night. It meant a lot to me havin’ you there.”

Adam rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling. “It was just a football game, Blake. You don’t have to thank me.”

“It wasn’t _just_ a game. I mean, yeah, normally I’d agree with you, but not this time. The fact that you were actually there made it more than that for me, Adam. Knowin’ how you feel about me playing… I don’t know, it’s hard for me to explain. But I just wanted to thank you, so.”

“That wasn’t the first time I’ve seen you play, Blake,” Adam says, propping himself up a little. When Blake looks too surprised to immediately reply, he keeps going. “I didn’t like, make a habit out of going or anything, but I’ve been to a few other games. Randomly, here and there, two or three maybe. Just to, you know, be able to say I’ve seen you play. So watching you last night, man, you were fucking awesome, but I already knew you would be.”

“Really?” Blake asks, and he says it like he doesn’t believe it and that look of utter surprise it still on his face like Adam just told him one of the secrets of the universe. Because he never would have guessed that Adam would step foot in those stands, ever.

“Really,” Adam answers, reaching out to trail his fingers along Blake’s cheek, over the faint hint of stubble growing there. He’s touched, really, that Blake would be so shocked to learn that he has seen him play more than once, that he thinks Blake is good, like his approval means so much. “I’m proud of you. For going for it and kicking ass, for being willing to walk away. I’m sorry you never knew that before.”

Blake ducks his head, his eyes closing against the sudden sting. He feels like he can’t breathe for a few seconds, a good kind of ache in his chest, and when he blinks his eyes open again, they’re wet and shining. “Thank you,” he whispers, because it’s all he can manage at the moment.

They lay in a comfortable silence for a few more minutes before Blake pushes himself up, reaches over the edge of the bed for his pants. 

“I should get going.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah. I told mom I’d be back after the dance, and my truck’s already at the house.”

Adam watches from his spot on the bed as Blake pulls on his pants, then picks his shirt up off the floor. He gets up himself a moment later when a mellow song starts playing through his speakers, and he grabs Blake’s hand, pulling him to the middle of the room.

“Did you dance at all tonight?” he asks, looping his arms up around Blake’s neck.

“A little. Not really.”

“Because I wasn’t there?”

“Because I didn’t want to. Don’t think so highly of yourself,” Blake says, his hands on Adam’s hips as he follows Adam’s lead, a slow sway from side to side.

“What would you have done if I showed up? If I walked right up to you and Miranda, said something like, ‘ _sorry sweetheart, this one’s mine_ ’ and pulled you out onto the dance floor right there in front of everybody?”

Blake looks completely stricken, and it takes him a second to reply, swallowing hard before he finds his voice. “I’m not sure. I guess I’d follow you.”

“Really?” Adam asks, his head tilted a little, thoughtful. “You wouldn’t push me away, call me crazy to save yourself?”

“No, never.”

Adam leans in, presses a kiss to Blake’s mouth. “I wouldn’t do that to you, either, by the way. If I’m going to dance with you, I’d rather do it like this.”

“Half naked?”

“Pretty much.”

Blake grins, and with great reluctance, pulls out of Adam’s arms. He’s quick to button up his shirt, trying to stuff his feet into his shoes and pulling on his jacket at the same time. Adam scoops his tie up off of the floor and drapes his around his own neck; all Blake can do is stare at him for a long moment, licking his lips before he shakes his head, making his way to the window.

“Leave this open. I’m comin’ back.”

“Oh, _are_ you?”

“It’s the damnedest thing but you put me in the mood to dance.”


	21. Day Twenty One - Cooking/Baking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s as easy as following the directions on the back of a box of brownie mix from this point on, and once they’re finally in the oven baking, Adam groans because “fucking christ, 30 more minutes, are you serious? They’re coming out of a goddamn box!”

“Do you even know what you’re doing?”

“Yes, I know what I’m doing.”

“I’m just saying, that’s going to be a really sad waste of some really good stuff if you fuck this up because you don’t know what the hell it is you’re doing.”

Blake gives Adam a look over his shoulder before turning his attention back to the stove, pouring the contents of his grinder out into the frying pan in front of him. “And what’re you gonna be sayin’ to me later after you eat the final product and realize how fuckin’ awesome I am?”

Adam crosses his arms loosely over his chest as he watches. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly trusting that this is going to be a success yet.”

“Oh ye of little faith. C’mon, give me some credit here, man.”

Oil gets added to the pan and Blake gives it a good stir; this part takes a while, the herb and oil simmering and infusing together on a low heat. Blake sets a timer on his phone to go off every thirty minutes for more stirring, and after a couple of hours, the long, drawn out process is finally done.

The final product gets filtered and strained, and as Adam pulls himself up to sit on the counter, he gives Blake a dubious look, the color of the oil questionable at best.

“Why didn’t we just smoke it?” Adam finds himself asking because he’s really not sure about this at all.

“Because you said you wanted brownies?”

Adam thumps his head back against the cabinet, letting out a sigh. “But that was like, five years ago at this point.”

It’s as easy as following the directions on the back of a box of brownie mix from this point on, and once they’re finally in the oven baking, Adam groans because “fucking christ, 30 more minutes, are you serious? They’re coming out of a goddamn box!”

Blake can’t help but laugh and pulls Adam off of the counter, leading him to the couch to keep him thoroughly distracted for the next half our. 

Later, after the brownies have baked and cooled and half of the pan is gone, when Adam is nothing but a giggling, heavy lidded lump on the sofa, Blake counts the day’s adventure as a success. Adam crawls into his lap, pushes until they’re both lying flat; it’s not very comfortable with Blake’s legs hanging over the edge, and he thinks about fixing that until Adam’s fingers are in his hair, their mouths pressed together.

“Mm, when we’re married, will you bake for me all the time?” Adam murmurs, dragging his fingers through Blake’s hair like it’s fascinating.

Blake grins, slow and lazy, shifts enough to hike one leg up onto the couch with them. “Anything you want,” he replies and closes his eyes, letting himself get lost in how much he likes how that sounds.


	22. Day Twenty Two - Performing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The duet everyone has been waiting for.

“Are you nervous about doing this?”

Blake plucks idly at the guitar sitting across his lap, thinking about that for a second. “Nah, I don’t think so. Not really nervous. Anxious, maybe? It’s kinda bittersweet. Why, are you nervous?”

Adam shrugs, shifting a little on his stool. “No. A little. Excited to do it since we never have before.”

“Well, we’ve performed with the other coaches a bunch.”

“Yeah, but this is different. This is just me and you.”

Blake nods in agreement but before he can say anything else, they get the signal that the band behind them is ready to go. Time to get their final rehearsal underway.

*** 

It’s the most overwhelming finale they have had to endure so far. Emotions always run high during the finales, but add in the fact that it is Blake and Adam’s last show ever, and everything is amped up and multiplied by a hundred. 

They keep on insisting that it’s not a big deal, the show goes on as it usually would, trying their best to keep everything as normal as possible on set. While they do know it’s a huge deal that they are leaving, they don’t want to see a big spectacle being made out of it, not when the contestants need to focus on their final performances. All week long, they do everything they can to make it about the final four, the way it should be.

The one thing they can’t stop people from talking about is the duet. Everyone wants to know what they’re going to be singing, wants to sit in on their rehearsals. They even agree to go into the studio and record a copy because it’s something the fans have been dying to have for years now. 

Rehearsals are closed to everyone but them and the band, their recording session is private. They take no chances with any details of their performance getting leaked on any for of social media before show time, and as far as they know, it works. 

*** 

“This is it,” Adam says, strapping on his guitar backstage while the crew is busy getting it set up. “You ready?”

“Well if I’m not, we’re screwed,” Blake jokes, holding onto his own guitar. “You think anyone is gonna understand this song choice?”

“Are you serious? Eric Clapton is a classic.”

“Yeah, but probably not somethin’ people would pick for the two of us to sing together.”

“It’s not Beer and Family, but it’ll have to do,” Adam says with a grin as they walk out onto the stage, taking their places on the two stools sitting front and center.

The stage goes dark as soon as they are seated, and the anticipation is so palpable, they barely even hear Carson’s introduction before the music starts. It’s mostly the two of them on their guitars, the band accompanying them in the most minor of ways; it’s perfectly clear that this moment is all about them and nothing else.

Blake sings first, the first couple of lines of the song. They picked Wonderful Tonight out together because like Adam said, it’s Eric Clapton and he’s a classic.

_It's late in the evening  
She's wondering what clothes to wear_

Adam comes in for his part seamlessly, and he’s not sure if he’s just so laser focused on the performance or if the crowd is just that deadly silent for the first time he has ever been on that stage.

_She puts on her make up  
And brushes her long blonde hair_

They continue alternating until they get to the bridge and when their voices join and blend, it’s almost magical, how perfect their different sounds are together. As they sing, their gazes shift, heads turning until they’re looking at each other; it happens automatically, an unconscious gesture on their part, but those looks coupled with the words they’re singing produce a message that screams through loud and clear.

_I feel wonderful_  
 _Because I see the love light in your eyes_  
 _And the wonder of it all_  
 _Is that you just don't realize how much I love you_

They go back to alternating lines for the final couple of verses as the song winds down. As they get to the last line, they transition back to singing together again, silky smooth harmony, drawing it out as guitars, crowd, the whole show are forgotten.

_Oh my darling, you are wonderful tonight_


	23. Day Twenty Three - Arguing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Adam's hands ball into fists, clench tight; Blake's voice is dripping with sarcasm, and if he wasn't already pissed off, it's been kicked up a few notches now. “Don't you dare condescend to me, Blake. Don't even be that kind of dick to me right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Day 14 was a prequel to [When the Right One Comes Along](http://archiveofourown.org/works/927975), then this is the sequel.

Blake is scheduled to be in Nashville for no more than 48 hours. He has barely been there for 24 when the shit hits the fan. He's walking out of a meeting with his management team and checking his phone for messages when he sees two new texts from Adam. The first is a picture of himself from earlier that very same day, and the next is Adam asking, “what the ever loving fuck is this bullshit?”

Because Blake isn't alone in the picture. He'd taken Miranda out for a late breakfast, and neither of them had noticed any paparazzi skulking around. It's not something he's ever really had to worry about in Nashville before, not to the extent that he couldn't go out and have a meal without having to look over his shoulder at every turn. But then he supposes getting a divorce and entering into a gay relationship will put a person on their radar, regardless of what city he happens to be in at the time.

He waits until he's back in his hotel room to call Adam, and he's not surprised when Adam picks up after only one ring.

“What the hell, Blake?”

“Hello to you, too.”

“Blake.”

“What? Why are you freakin' out?” Blake asks because he honestly doesn't understand why Adam has his underwear in such a twist over one stupid picture.

“Did you really just ask me that question? You leave here questioning our relationship and the next thing I see is you out and about with your ex? Are you fucking kidding me? It's a great picture, by the way, the two of you look so happy to see each other again.”

Adam has a point there, Blake has to give him that one. Because things were rocky when he left, they were borderline fighting, but it’s not like it was his fault. Not entirely. He had every right and perfectly good reason to be asking questions.

It was a mutual agreement to take a year off together. The plan was to do the back and forth between LA and Oklahoma, plan their wedding (as small and private as it was going to be), and take a nice, long honeymoon. No work meant no work, and for two workaholics, it’s understandable how difficult that could be to stick to, but they made a promise.

They started out fine, everything was great, but it all started going to hell when Adam was asked to do a collaboration. It would be something quick and easy, he said, especially since it’s for someone else. One studio session turned into a week at Ryan Tedder’s studio in Denver, into a month in the studio in LA with the band, into Maroon 5 in full new album mode. Adam even pushed for Blake to pick up a project or two, wouldn’t he like something to do in the meantime? When Blake called him out on it, Adam deflected with a joke – _“don’t turn into a girl on me now, Shelton, we have plenty of time for all that stuff later on!”_ – and Blake gave up eventually.

Everything involved with the wedding planning got changed, pushed back, or cancelled all together and in the end, after everything was said and done, Blake was left wondering if it’s actually realistic to expect it to happen at all. And now here they are.

“Good lord, Adam,” Blake says with a groan. “Calm the hell down, it's not even like that.”

“Really? We'll talk about what it's actually like when you get home.”

And then the connection is lost. Adam is gone. Blake blinks down at the screen of his phone, asking himself if that actually just happened, if Adam honest to god hung up on him in the bitchest move that would make the biggest diva proud. Sadly, the answer is yes, it really did just happen, and all Blake can do is sigh. 

*** 

For the past few years, they've made a habit of being there to pick each other up at the airport whenever possible. Hangovers, jet lag, red eye flights, whatever, none of it matters - if they're both in town at the same time, they are there to pick the other one up, no exceptions. When Blake gets off of the plane and finds that Adam's car isn't parked in the usual place, he isn't sure what to think. He's immediately a little hurt, but the anger that surges forward overpowers that pretty quickly because this little temper tantrum that Adam is throwing is getting pretty fucking ridiculous. 

He has plenty of time to seethe when he calls for a ride, has to wait for pick up, stewing silently in the backseat during the ride home. Adam's car is parked right next to his truck where it always is, and isn't that just lovely. Blake can't even stop himself from slamming the door behind him when he finally steps foot inside the house, dropping his duffel bag right there in the foyer.

“No, no, don't worry about me! I found my own damn way home, no thanks to you. So good to be back!” he calls out as he stalks through the house. He finds Adam sitting in one of their music rooms, guitar across his lap. “Do you have something you want to say to me?”

Adam plucks a single string before he sets the guitar safely aside, looking up at Blake for a moment before he speaks. “I don't get you.”

“Wait. _You_ don't get _me_?” Blake asks, completely exasperated, hands flying. 

“Oh my god, Blake. Like I said on the phone, when you left, you were questioning our relationship, questioning me and my motives, and then the next thing I know, I see you're out in _Nashville_ —” Adam says and he spits out that word like it's a curse, something completely disgusting to him, “--hanging out with your ex-wife, like that's completely normal and something that happens every day? And what, I'm not supposed to react to that? Seriously, you're not this stupid, Blake, come on.”

Blake lets out a sigh. “Yes, I saw her when I got there that morning. We were both in town at the same time, it's been a while, thought we'd catch up. We ate a meal together, completely innocent and harmless. We're _friends_ , Adam. We have been since we split up, you know that. Or did you suddenly decide to forget that little detail in the midst of your diva fit?”

Adam's hands ball into fists, clench tight; Blake's voice is dripping with sarcasm, and if he wasn't already pissed off, it's been kicked up a few notches now. “Don't you dare condescend to me, Blake. Don't even be that kind of dick to me right now.”

The small laugh Blake lets out is completely lacking in humor, and it's the most unsettling sound Adam has ever heard. When he fires his comeback at Adam, his voice is louder, angrier. “Oh, _I'm_ being a dick? Me? What does that make _you_ then?”

“Oh my god!” Adam says, his voice raising, too. “Did you have to come home being an enormous asshole, seriously? What the fuck did you drink on the plane?”

Blake opens his mouth to speak but quickly closes it again, taking a moment to collect himself, calm down a little. He takes a deep breath, lets it out. Then switches gears and asks a question that's been on his mind a lot the past few months. “Why'd you ask me to marry you, Adam?”

The question catches Adam off guard; it's not what he was expecting Blake to say next at all. “Why-- What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

Blake sinks down to sit in the closest chair, suddenly deflating, all of the fight draining out of him in that instant. He hates fighting with Adam, doesn't want to do it anymore. But they need to talk about this, so he pushes on. “We were supposed to get married almost seven months ago, and you see no problem with it being indefinitely put on hold 'cause other things keep comin' up. And don't think I haven't noticed that you're the one that's pushing for this other stuff to happen. So it makes me wonder why you asked in the first place if it's somethin' you might not really want, but I guess I shouldn't wonder because what, that makes me girly or somethin', right? Isn't that what you called it? Because it's all just a big joke to you?”

To say Adam is floored would be an understatement. He doesn't really know what to do with everything Blake has just thrown at him, not when he's this pissed off already, so he does what is easiest: he goes into avoidance and denial mode when it comes to the big picture and lets the anger take over, rising to his feet and pointing a finger right back at Blake. “Oh, I'm _sorry_ for thinking our careers are still important and for not settling right down into a little housewife for you, Blake. But I have news for you, if that's what you're looking for here, if that's what you think is going to happen, you can fucking forget it, not going to happen, pal. I'm not going to stop being who I am just because I put a ring on it.”

For a minute, Blake doesn't blink. Can't even breathe. He looks back at Adam with wide eyes as his heart shatters in his chest. Everything has spiraled out of control so fast, he has no idea how they even got here. “Is-- Seriously, is that really what you think I want from you?” he finally manages to ask, and there's an unsteady waver in his voice now.

“I don't know what the fuck you want from me!” Adam replies with a shout, all too apparent that he's still fired up, while Blake is just done. Completely done.

Blake slowly pushes himself up to stand, and with a sad shake of his head, he slides the ring off of his finger for the first time since Adam put it there. “If you honestly don't know that by now, then we shouldn't be doin' this at all,” he says softly, handing the ring back to Adam before he leaves the room, grabbing the keys to his truck before he walks right out of the house.

*** 

There are very few people Blake trusts in LA, and next to Adam, Carson is his best friend. When a phone call has to be made later in the night to collect an extremely drunk Blake Shelton, Carson’s number is the one that gets picked out of the list in his phone. It would be truly humiliating if not for back exits and employees that understand the meaning of discretion. Carson can't even ask the burning questions when he gets an arm around Blake, drags him out through the back because he's so far gone; the ring missing from Blake's left hand gives him the impression that whatever happened, whatever lead Blake to this place tonight, isn't good. 

He manages with some difficulty to get Blake situated in the front seat. Having seen Blake drunk more times than he can count by now, he knows Blake can hold his alcohol better than anyone else Carson has ever met before, but he has never see him like this before. 

“Throw up in my car, Blake, and I'll never forgive you,” Carson says as they pull out of the lot, but Blake is silent, his head resting against the window, eyes closed.

By some small miracle he makes it all the way to Carson's house, the car still slowly rolling down the driveway before Blake is opening his door and falling out. The rough concrete scrapes his palms open when he hits the ground, denim protecting his knees though the impact is still hard as he retches violently. 

“I think he's… Yeah, puking in my driveway,” Carson says with a grimace, his phone pressed to his ear as he rounds the back of the car. "You so owe me big time for this. Both of you."

He slips his phone back into his pocket before he reaches down for Blake, helping him up before he has a chance to collapse face first in the mess he's just made. Carson grunts under Blake's weight, and it's a definite struggle to get him into the house now that his system has already started staging its revolt against the copious amounts of alcohol he poured down his own throat. As they make their way up the stairs, Carson vaguely wonders if he should be worried about alcohol poisoning, but he hopes that Blake wouldn't be that fucking stupid.

In the guest room, he dumps Blake on the bed, lets him lay sprawling where he lands.

“This is not in my job description,” he gripes as he takes the time to pull off Blake's boots, then strips off his plaid shirt to throw in the wash because gross. There's a trash can sat next to the bed, a couple of bottles of water collected from the kitchen, and Carson makes Blake drink most of one of them in front of him before he's comfortable enough leaving Blake alone for a while. He passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow again, and Carson makes it a point to check on him every once in a while to make sure the bastard is still breathing. It's not like he really wanted to sleep much that night anyway.

*** 

The headache threatening to split open his skull and the nausea still churning in his stomach keep Blake in bed until well into the next afternoon. He takes as much ibuprofen as possible and drinks every bottle of water or Gatorade that appears next to the bed between bouts of sleep. It's after two when Blake finally drags himself into the bathroom to clean up a little, splashing cool water on his face, soaking his hair. He avoids looking at himself in the mirror as much as possible because he can only imagine, and he's a little ashamed of himself now in the light of day. When he's no longer dripping, he searches the bedroom for his missing button-up, his undershirt wet now, but it is nowhere to be found.

He's feeling embarrassed, almost sheepish as he heads downstairs. The house is quiet and after a slow sweep through the rooms, he finds Carson sitting in his office. He taps his knuckles lightly on the open door, leans against the frame.

“You're alive.”

“Yeah… Thank you for, you know, takin' care of my ass. I shouldn't have let it get that bad.”

Carson shrugs a shoulder and stands up, leads Blake out toward the kitchen. “You're my friend, Blake. While there were parts of it I could've lived without, I'm here for you, man. Any time. Have a seat, I'll fix you something to eat to help with the massive hangover I'm sure you're still suffering from.”

“You've done enough for me already, you don't have to—”

“Sit your ass down.”

Blake holds his hands up in surrender, then pulls out a stool from the island in the middle of the kitchen to sit. He watches as Carson takes out eggs, bread, fresh fruit from a basket. Blake isn't sure how much he'll actually be able to eat, but he's willing to give it a shot if Carson is going to go through all of the trouble of preparing it.

“Just so you know, I talked to Adam last night,” Carson says as he cracks eggs into a bowl.

There's a long pause before Blake asks, “And?”

“He didn't tell me much, just that you two got into a fight, he may have said some stupid things, and you left. That was pretty much it. I didn't ask for details, and I'm not going to,” comes Carson's reply as he pours the eggs into a pan to cook. “But I know the two of you, Blake, and I find it really hard to believe that after one blow up fight, you'd be calling it quits. I mean, you both say some of the dumbest shit I've ever heard on a normal day, so I can only _imagine_ how your mouths would run when you're pitted against someone in a real fight. But I'd think it would take a lot more than that to break the two of you up.”

Blake swallows hard, his hands moving to fidget with a ring that’s no longer there. “It was pretty bad,” he says eventually. “If nothin’ else, I think we just have some priorities to figure out.”

When Carson slides a plate of food in front of him, Blake has absolutely no desire to touch any of it. The nausea from his hangover mixed with his thoughts returning to his fight with Adam the night before makes any hope for eating seem impossible. Carson is insistent, though, threatening to force-feed him if he has to, and Blake manages to choke down a few bites of eggs and toast, half of a banana before nothing else will go down.

After retrieving Blake’s now clean shirt from the dryer and armed with an extra large cup of coffee, they set out to pick up Blake’s truck. Carson tries to say that there’s no rush for Blake to leave, but Blake insists, saying he needs to get it over with.Time to face the music, so to speak.

“If you need somewhere to go for a couple of days or... well, anything at all,” there's a brief pause where Carson hopes it doesn't come down to that, then he sighs softly before saying, “Just give me a call, okay?”

Blake nods as he gets out of the car, stretches out his long legs. “I will. Thanks for everything, brother.”

“Any time, man. You know that.”

Blake watches as Carson leaves before he climbs into his truck and drives home. It takes a lot of willpower to get out once he's sitting in the driveway; the last thing he wants to do is fight with Adam again. He's not even sure how much fight he has left in him right now, if he's totally honest. 

Would he fight _for_ Adam? Hell yes. But fighting with him and tearing their relationship apart is something completely different.

It's unexpected to walk through the front door and immediately get shoved back against it. Adam is right there in his face, his expression unreadable, but there's a slight tremble in his hand when he jabs a finger in Blake's chest.

“You are such a jackass!”

“Good to know nothing's changed while I was gone,” Blake says with a grunt, pushing away from the door. Adam goes to shove him back again, but Blake catches him around the wrists, holds on tight. “Hey, back off.”

“Do you have _any_ idea-- You scared the hell out of me! You just leave and ignore my calls, my texts, and then the next thing I hear, Carson has dragged your ass back to his place, black out drunk, and jesus christ, Blake!”

Blake uses the hold he still has on Adam's wrists to push him backward, then lets go so he can slip from between him and the door and make his way further into the house. His head still hurts and he stops in the kitchen for something to drink and another dose of pain killers.

“Gotta admit, after the shit that came outta your mouth yesterday, I'm a little surprised you care so much,” Blake finally says after he swallows down a couple of pills and heads toward the stairs, Adam following close behind.

“Blake. Come on, you know I care.”

He doesn't bother trying to come up with a response, instead goes to the bedroom and grabs some fresh clothes to change into. He feels like absolute shit, can't remember the last time he felt this bad (physically, emotionally, in every way possible), and the shower is calling his name. The bathroom door gets closed in Adam's face, and once Blake is alone in the shower, under the spray of hot water, he finds that he's really in no hurry to get back out. He takes his time with soap and shampoo, letting long minutes tick by just standing under the water, feeling it beat down against the back of his neck, the tense muscles in his shoulders. He has no idea what he's going to do, what's going to happen when he and Adam face off again. It's not that he wants to leave, but at the same time, the thought of staying when Adam can say and think such absolute shit about him feels so wrong. It's the first time anything has ever felt wrong between them, and it's a little more than unsettling.

When Blake finally shuts the water off, he feels only slightly better and only in the sense that he's not disgusting anymore; that's not saying much, considering. He dries off and goes through the motions of getting dressed - jeans, t-shirt, and one of his worn in plaid button ups that he leaves undone for now because he doesn't know if he's leaving again or staying yet. He takes the time to brush his teeth and even contemplates shaving a little, scratching at the whitening hair under his chin, but he knows it's only a means of stalling the inevitable. With a heavy sigh and a quick rub of his eyes, he decides he might as well get it over with. 

Back out in the bedroom, he finds Adam sitting on the bed with his head in his hands, and it makes Blake's heart ache just a little bit more. He looks up as soon as Blake is back in the room, and he looks just as miserable as Blake feels. Their eyes lock for a few moments until Adam slowly pushes himself up to stand; he's completely weary now, bone tired, and it's obvious that all of the fight and fire that's been raging inside of him has burned out entirely. 

“I owe you a really big apology,” he starts. “I didn't... I said some incredibly stupid things in the heat of the moment, inexcusable things, and I'm sorry. Blake, I'm so fucking sorry.”

Blake swallows hard, a lump of emotion already swelling up in his throat. “I'm used to you runnin' your mouth, Adam. We both do it,” he says, walking into their closet. He searches for a moment for his duffel bag before remembering it’s still downstairs, sitting at the front door. The thought of leaving again makes his stomach churn, but predicting what direction this whole thing may take has proven to be impossible. 

Stepping back out into the room empty handed, Blake feels a little lost, needs _something_ to do with his hands so he shoves them into his pockets. “But when you said...” he pauses for a second, frowning as the words echo in his head. His jaw clenches momentarily, but he's not going to let himself get angry again, not right now. 

“You said you don't know what I want from you and _that?_ That was worse than anything else you could've said to me because _you know_ what I want from you. It hasn't changed from the same thing I've wanted from day one, the only thing I'll want for as long as we're doin' this. You know what that is.”

“Just me.” Adam’s reply is quiet, barely heard in the silent room. He keeps his eyes on the floor like he's too ashamed to look at Blake full on because of the simplicity of the answer. 

“Right. And all of that other stuff you were throwin' out at me was complete bullshit and you know it. I never needed a ring. Never would've expected one from you and I would've been okay with that. But you gave me one, you put that option out there like it was something you really wanted, so I took it because I believed you. And when it started to look like maybe you didn't want it after all, you made a joke out of me askin' questions. Now here we are.” 

Adam nods his head, licks his lips, and he still can't bring himself to look up at Blake's face when he starts talking again. “You're right. You're completely right, I'm an asshole. I never stopped wanting it, Blake, or wanting you. But maybe I did get a little scared of it actually happening, I can admit that,” he says, his gaze set on the floor in front of him. 

“I guess I never expected you to question me, or us, and then I didn't know how to actually answer your questions because at the time, I didn't want to admit that I was scared, or maybe I didn't even realize that's what it was. That I was being driven by fear. I don't know.” Adam’s voice starts to waver by the end and he sucks in a deep breath, closing some of the distance between them. He finally looks up into Blake's eyes now, and there's so much hurt and sadness reflecting between them, it’s a little hard to breathe. “What I _do_ know is I hate that I hurt you. That's the last thing I would ever want to do.” 

Blake understands the fear, he gets it. They have had to deal with it a lot over the course of their relationship: the fear of getting caught, of realizing that maybe what they were doing was a little bit more than just a fling, the fear that came with the knowledge that they were falling for each other. It was terrifying when they decided they might want to dive head first into a real relationship, that they owed it to the people in their lives to come clean, to finally, eventually come out. The scariest thing may have been taking their relationship public, knowing how brutal the press can be and also not knowing if they would have any semblance of a career after the fallout. 

But through all of that, they stuck together. They faced it all side by side, the solid support they each needed to make it through. Marriage would be another huge stepping stone for them to conquer, so if Adam is afraid of actually doing it, Blake can’t figure out why, suddenly, they couldn’t face this one together. 

It all comes down to, he supposes, sometimes people just have to fight. 

Blake drags a hand over his face, completely drained. “We don’t have to get married, Adam. I don’t want to do anything that’s going to mess up what we have, it’s not worth it; nothin’ is worth losing you,” he says, crossing the room to sit heavily on the edge of the bed, exhausted. 

Adam lets out a breath, latching on to the only important part (in his mind) of what Blake just said. “So are you…” he starts, his eyes trailing over to the closet because he’s not stupid, he knows why Blake went in there. “You’re staying?” 

“I never wanted to leave.” 


	24. Day Twenty Four - Making Up Afterwards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He may not say the words as such, but when Blake presses a kiss to his forehead, warm and lingering, Adam thinks it feels a lot like forgiveness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows yesterday's fic, obviously.

The silence that blankets the room is heavy, though they have gained some relief with the knowledge that Blake is here to stay. Adam doesn’t feel like he’s about to come out of his skin as much anymore, on the verge of a panic attack because that’s how severely bad he is at being alone and Blake would be the biggest loss he has ever had to face.

When Blake eventually wanders out of the room, Adam has to force himself to stay put and not follow after him like some kind of pathetic, lost puppy. He has to tell himself that he doesn’t need to follow him for the reassurance that he isn’t going anywhere, that Blake isn’t about to walk out the front door again and not come back. 

He hasn’t heard those three little words – _“I forgive you”_ – and he doesn’t really know if he deserves to hear them, if his apology was enough to make up for what he said, for how deep he knows his words cut. He really needs to figure out how to develop some kind of brain-to-mouth filter before he completely ruins his life one of these days; it’s bound to happen sooner or later, he thinks.

He’s replaying their fight over in his mind, his face pressed into the crook of his elbow, cursing himself once again for being such an idiot when Blake’s voice cuts through.

“What’re you doin’ on the floor?” Blake asks when he shuffles back into the room, his feet literally dragging. He’s carrying his bag, mostly empty now after leaving its contents in the laundry room.

Adam looks up, lets himself just watch Blake for a moment before he responds. “Just felt like the best place to be.” 

He keeps his eyes on Blake, watches as he moves around the room, in and out of the bathroom before he’s sitting on the bed. He’s so close now, and Adam can’t stop himself from shifting even closer, up onto his knees, reaching for one of Blake’s hands. It’s then that he notices the scrapes on Blake’s palm, and he brushes his thumb around the torn skin.

“What did you do?”

"Oh," Blake says, looking at his other hand, like he totally forgot they have been ripped apart. "I think I sorta fell outta Carson's car last night. It might've still been movin', I can't really remember."

Adam brings Blake’s hand up to his mouth, presses his mouth to the red and angry looking abrasions. "What am I going to do with you?" he sighs.

“Adam.”

His eyes close at the sound of his own name, at the feel of Blake’s hand sliding around to cup the side of his face. He feels like he doesn’t deserve this reverence; shouldn’t he be groveling at Blake’s feet? Not feeling like Blake is sitting here offering him comfort, but he wants it so much. 

Adam leans over until he can rest his forehead against Blake’s thigh and just breathes. He’s so tired, completely exhausted; he didn’t sleep at all the night before, not even for a few minutes. First he was too pissed off, and then he was too worried, and then he was angry again, emotions flip flopping out of his control until Blake finally came back home.

“You still pissed at me?” he mumbles because he needs to know, enjoying the feel of Blake’s fingers in his hair. “Scale of one to ten?”

“I don’t know, Adam,” Blake sighs, thinking about it for a moment. “I think I’m too tired to feel much of anything right now.”

Adam lifts his head at that, pushing himself up. “Scoot back,” he says softly, waiting until Blake shifts back on the bed to follow him. 

They settle together comfortably, half of Adam’s body covering Blake’s own, their legs tangled together; he’s totally clinging, he’s man enough to admit that, but he couldn’t give less of a fuck, nuzzling his face into the crook of Blake’s neck.

He may not say the words as such, but when Blake presses a kiss to his forehead, warm and lingering, Adam thinks it feels a lot like forgiveness.


	25. Day Twenty Five - Gazing into Each Other's Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleep must have done them both some good because Adam feels refreshed and, more than anything at the moment, hopeful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows yesterday's fic. Just seemed to make sense to me.

It takes a little while for the fog of a deep sleep to clear itself from Adam’s brain; he lets himself drift in that hazy space between sleep and consciousness for as long as possible until he can’t anymore, until he’s undeniably awake. The first thing he notices when he slowly blinks his eyes open is that Blake is awake, too, looking back at him through hooded eyes from the opposite pillow. He takes a moment to stretch, bones popping, before he settles again, keeping that distance between them they created while they slept. 

“Were you watching me sleep?” Adam asks, voice still thick from the lack of use.

“A little bit,” Blake confesses.

“You big creep.”

Blake cracks a smile, a small one tugging at the corners of his mouth. Adam notes how his eyes are much brighter now, his face not quite as pale; sleep must have done them both some good because Adam feels refreshed and, more than anything at the moment, _hopeful_. He reaches a hand out to touch Blake’s face, brushing his thumb over one corner of that slight smile. It grows, just a little, and Adam finds himself lost in a sea of blue as he holds Blake’s gaze for the longest time, neither of them blinking, making no attempt to look away. 

He doesn’t want to ruin the moment, but he’s starting to feel like he might explode, his heart pounding hard in his chest. He’s sure Blake has to be able to feel it even through the distance between them, anxiety and desire and a small amount of fear all mixed together.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Sucking in a deep breath, Adam fishes Blake’s ring out of his pocket and holds it out into the small space between them, his eyes on Blake’s face to gauge his reaction.

“Marry me?”

Blake lets out a sigh, pushing himself to sit up. “Adam—”

Adam follows Blake up instantly, sitting on his knees in front of him. “I’m serious. Blake, I know I said I was afraid, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want it. It’s not something I even thought about before, ever, but I know in my heart that I want it with you.”

“You know we can be just as good, just as strong without this, right?” Blake asks, hell-bent on avoiding another fight.

“I know that. But it’s just… I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, okay. Seriously. What if you got sick or hurt or what if something crazy happened to me, and we couldn’t do jack shit about it because we aren’t considered each other’s family? For some fucked up reason, it means something to other people. It’s a symbol to the rest of the world, right? And in a way, I guess it actually does make us stronger.”

They’re stuck just looking at each other again, gazes locked, long moments ticking by with neither of them glancing away. Slowly, _finally_ , Blake’s gaze softens and he looks down at the ring in Adam’s hand. 

“All right,” he says, the words barely out of his mouth before Adam is lunging forward, pressing their mouths together. 

“Tell me you mean it,” Adam says, pulling back just enough to look Blake in the eye again. “I’m a little fucking fragile right now, Blake.”

Blake blinks, barks out a laugh. “ _You’re_ \--?” He loves Adam to death but the man is unbelievable sometimes. “Yes, I mean it. Give me the damn thing.” 

Adam slips the ring onto Blake’s left hand, then hooks their fingers together, leaning into press another kiss to Blake’s lips. “You know what we need to do?”

“Mm, what’s that?”

“Make-up sex,” he says with a grin and kisses Blake again, deep and lingering. Because make-up sex? Can sometimes be the very best sex.


	26. Day Twenty Six - Getting Married

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They plan for a fall wedding. Things don't always go according to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the same 'verse as the last 3. I'll stop making them all connect, I promise.

They plan for a fall wedding. Not that it’s going to be a huge thing, there’s no way, but when one of them makes the offhand comment that they should get married in the fall, it somehow just sticks. It _might_ have a little bit to do with the fact that it’s Blake’s favorite season. With the days being just a little bit shorter, the nights that much longer, the leaves on the trees a kaleidoscope of reds, yellows, and oranges, there’s so much to enjoy about fall. Waking up to chilly mornings, and that cool, crisp feeling lingering in the air throughout the day, especially when the wind blows. Not to mention the--

“You know none of that applies to Los Angeles, right? I mean, you’ve been here long enough by now to realize that.”

“Thank you _so much_ for bursting my bubble. I was having a moment and there you go just… bein’ you.”

Adam presses his lips together, trying his best not to laugh. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, only stating the obvious. Sometimes he just can’t help himself. “I’m sorry. Was that your way of telling me you want to get married in Oklahoma?”

“Not necessarily Oklahoma, no,” Blake says, still trying to resist the urge to reach over and punch Adam in the head. “But do you really think we could get married here in LA without it becomin’ some kind of spectacle?” 

“Very true. We’ll figure it out, we have time,” Adam replies. “And on my mental list of must haves, under decorations, I’ve just added _leaves_. Just for you.”

“You are such a—”

Before Blake can finish that thought, Adam is climbing into his lap, pressing their mouths together. “Tell me more about fall. I like hearing you talk about it.”

*** 

It turns out to be a lot easier to think about the future, to try to make plans, this second time around. Adam is into it one hundred percent, and with nothing but time in front of them, the possibilities seem endless. It is a luxury they haven’t had much of during the course of their relationship so far, what with promoting and touring four new albums between them and their non-stop runs on The Voice the last few years. The endless side projects don’t even bear mentioning but they don’t get called workaholics for nothing.

One can only keep up that sort of pace for so long before they dive head first into a disastrous burn out, and they would be lying if they said they weren’t almost there. Deciding they are ready for and deserve a much-needed break is an easy one to make. And they mean it this time, no changing their minds, regardless of how simple an offer may sound.

While they are fully on board with the wedding planning, it’s not something they want to rush. Ask either of them and they’ll say they have plenty of time to think about how they want the whole thing to go – all of those pesky who, what, and where’s. The first thing they do, Blake’s first real order of business, is to get Adam a ring that matches his own. When he gets it home, he gives Adam the choice of putting it on now or waiting until they get married. Adam makes a show of trying to snatch the box from Blake’s hand but Blake holds it up out of his reach, grinning.

“Should I put it in the freezer first? Let it set up for a while?”

“You’re _hilarious_. Do you want me to knee you in the balls?”

“You just sucked the fun outta that completely.”

This time Adam does laugh. “Don’t try to derail this by setting up a blowjob joke, it’s not going to work. Give me the fucking ring.”

Blake tries not to laugh, wants to be annoyed on principle but fails entirely, laughing and shaking his head as he, for what could be the first time ever, takes great pleasure in putting something on Adam’s body when he slides the ring onto his finger. 

“Have I told you lately I love how romantic you are?” he asks as he hooks his fingers between Adam’s, getting accustomed to the way they feel fitted together now that they are both wearing rings. He tilts his head a little, studying their hands as their fingers slide together.

“What is that face?” Adam asks.

Blake smiles, rubs his thumb across the band on the inside of Adam’s finger. “I was just tryin’ to figure out if this is the first time I’ve ever put something on your body instead of always takin’ it off. Pretty sure it is.”

Adam can’t help but grin. “Do you feel like you need to compensate for that now by taking something off?”

“Yes, now that you mention it. Yes, I do,” he says matter-of-factly, and Adam dissolves into a fit of laughter as Blake’s hands slip beneath his shirt.

*** 

Adam stares up at the ceiling in the pitch black room, his fingers laced together behind his head. He has considered getting up a few times already but can’t seem to make himself move, hoping the pull of sleep will sneak up on him if he stays put. It isn’t until one of Blake’s legs slides across the bed and crosses his at the ankle that Adam realizes his foot has been twitching back and forth the whole time, a nervous tick he’s barely even conscious of.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Did I wake you up?” he whispers, unsure of why really if Blake is already awake, but Blake just hums against his pillow and reaches out, hooks an arm around Adam's waist and pulls him closer. “Gonna spoon me into unconsciousness?”

“Whatever works,” Blake mumbles, breath warm against the back of Adam’s neck as they settle back to chest.

It’s always comforting to get enveloped in Blake’s body heat, and Adam slides a hand along Blake’s arm, hooks their fingers together. He tries his best to stay still after that, to not fidget too much so Blake can drift off back to sleep. He lets his own eyes fall closed, focuses on Blake’s deep, even breathing to maybe lull him off to sleep but it’s to no avail. His thoughts are racing and he’s reminded so much of the night he asked Blake to marry him the first time; it feels like so long ago now, even though it hasn’t been, not really. Coming up on a year, just about, and Adam lets his fingers idly trace around the ring on Blake’s finger, a slow, barely there touch that hopefully won’t disturb him.

It turns into a moot point when he suddenly blurts out, “I think we should elope,” and he suddenly can’t feel Blake breathing behind him anymore. It lasts longer than he’s comfortable with and he twists around a little, squeezing his hand. “Blake?”

“What is your deal with doin’ this stuff in the middle of the night?” Blake says with a long, slow exhale.

“I don’t know! Go back to sleep, forget I said anything.”

Blake just grunts, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Hell, I’m awake now.”

“Oh, good!” Adam says as he sits up, reaching over to click on the lamp next to the bed. They both squint against the sudden burst of light, and Blake’s face is far grumpier than Adam would like, especially for the conversation they’re about to have. 

“All right, so… _why_?” Blake asks, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Because I’m tired of waiting? Okay, not the best answer, put the bitch face away. But it would definitely be easier, right? I know we have some plans already in the bag, but that’s easy to deal with. We just turn it into a party instead of a wedding ceremony.”

“And you call _me_ ridiculous,” Blake grumbles.

“You _are_ ,” Adam says, shifting over to straddle Blake’s hips. “If we try to have a real wedding, we’re going to be hunted down regardless of where we are. The paps are the fucking worst, they’ll find us, and it literally makes me want to kill someone to think of them invading the sanctuary we have at the ranch. You’ve worked so fucking over the years hard to keep that, and if we try to have an actual wedding there, it’ll be gone. It makes sense, and you know it.”

“I get what you’re sayin’, I do.”

“We can still do it in Oklahoma. Call up your mom, say hey, surprise, do you feel like being a witness today? No stress, no fuss. Just you and me and vows and forever, Blake. Come on, let’s do it.”

Blake looks back at him for a few moments, slides his hands up over Adam’s hips. “If I say yes, there’s absolutely no hope of us goin’ back to sleep tonight, is there?”

Adam grins, stretching out over him. “Mmm, eventually.”

*** 

They fly Adam’s mom to Oklahoma with them three days later because Adam knows with absolute certainty that if he got married without her there, he would be a dead man. Having been out to the ranch only once before, they treat it like another visit – wouldn’t she like to see it again, get out of the city for a couple of days? Because they don’t give her any other details about the trip, and if she suspects anything, she doesn’t say. 

The jig is officially up as soon as Blake’s mom shows up at the ranch; the two women take one long, knowing look at each other, turn to Blake and Adam expectantly and say, “really, boys?”

“Well, _shit_ ,” is all Adam can say because they wanted it to be a bigger surprise, like maybe when they pulled up to the courthouse to get their license or something.

“Surprise?” Blake offers with a smile, and apparently it’s enough. Both moms shake their heads at them, but there are big, warm hugs, and when Blake and Adam look at each other, there’s no question that they made the right decision.

The next morning arrives bright and beautiful, and even if he knows deep down he wants it, that doesn’t stop Adam from feeling like he could throw up at any given moment. It’s hard to ignore the way his hands shake as he gets dressed, and it isn’t until his mom comes in and helps him that he’s able to get his shirt buttoned up all the way.

“Are you sure?” she asks, smoothing down his collar.

“Yes,” he answers without hesitation. He’s never been more sure about anything in his life.

As soon as he sees Blake dressed and ready to go, Adam’s stomach unclenches just a little. He looks amazing, Adam isn’t even surprised, black jeans with a crisp white shirt under a black vest, hair curling in the back since he hasn’t had it cut in a while. They look like they belong together with Adam in his simple black suit and as soon as they put their rings back on, the picture will be complete.

“You ready to do this?” Blake asks, big hands sliding over Adam’s shoulders and squeezing.

Adam nods his head, swallows hard. “Absolutely,” he says and smiles.

There’s nothing extravagant about getting married in a courthouse. No frills, no fuss, usually no romance. It can take a while if you have to sit and wait to be seen, awkward with other people going about their business filling the hallways. It helps to be famous, to be able to walk into a mostly empty building where discretion is key and have a judge expecting you because you called in a favor. Blake doesn’t like to throw his weight around very often, but he does it for something like this.

In the end, it comes down to just Blake and Adam, vows and rings and the promise of forever. They decided to have their rings taken off and engraved just for this, to be able to slip them back on each other’s fingers at the given time. It’s a surprise to find out what they say, and when Blake goes first, holds up Adam’s so he can see the writing on the inside, Adam bursts out laughing.

“You are unbelievable,” he says as Blake slides the ring onto his finger, newly engraved with, _‘this love has taken its toll on me –dickhead’_ and it’s so ridiculously perfect, Adam could cry, his eyes burning with it.

When it’s his turn, he holds out Blake’s ring, the engraving visible - _‘the best damn thing you lucked into –dipshit’_ – and Blake laughs, too.

“How did you—Did you cheat? Did you look at mine first before we took ‘em to get done?” Blake asks because while they agreed to pick a lyric and a nickname, they didn’t realize they were quite so freakishly in sync. 

“No! More proof that we’re perfect for each other,” Adam says, placing Blake’s ring onto his finger for the third and final time. It’s not coming off again.

Blake hooks their fingers together and grins, pulls Adam closer to him. It hasn’t been said yet that they can kiss, but neither of them really care as their mouths press together. They have never been known to do what they’re supposed to do, anyway. Why start now?


	27. Day Twenty Seven - On One of Their Birthdays

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gift of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The finale for Season 4 was on Blake's birthday.

When Adam asks Blake what he wants for his birthday, his first reaction is to laugh. But then Blake sighs and actually thinks about the question, but he can’t come up with a real answer. There isn’t a present that Adam could really give him that would top his friendship, simply having the guy in his life in general, so telling him some _thing_ that he could go out and buy Blake just seems… stupid.

“You know what I’d really like to have? A nap.”

Adam blinks at him for a moment. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I'm bein’ serious. I’d like to be able to have enough time to myself where I can unwind and relax enough to take a goddamn nap in the middle of the day. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been able to do that?”

“Well, I’m not sure I have the ability to gift you with _time_ , Blake, but I get what you’re saying.”

But the wheels in Adam’s head are already turning, the blueprints for a plan already being laid out as he gives Blake a solid clap on the back.

*** 

It’s the day before the final live show and to say Blake is pissed would be an understatement. He gets a call that morning from his publicist about a last minute change to his schedule for the day; that open period of time he has when he isn’t working with his team doesn’t exist anymore because there’s a magazine that wants to do a photo shoot and exclusive interview with him leading up to the final show. They want to be able to release it as soon as possible on the chance that he wins again for the third year in a row, and while that’s all fine and dandy, Blake was looking forward to that little bit of a break, even if it’s only a few hours, and where the _hell_ do they get off jinxing him like this?!

Blake curses at Tree, though she’s so used to it by now that she basically tells him to shut up and show up _on time_ and hangs up on him. He does find it a little strange, as he’s being driven to the location, that it’s taking place in a hotel. Eventually he figures this is just for the interview portion and they will be changing venues for the photo shoot, but as long as they’re the ones hauling his ass around and he just has to sit there, he doesn’t care.

At the hotel, he’s given a room number and gets dropped off at a back entrance and it’s also strange that none of his people are anywhere to be seen. He gives his publicist a call but it goes straight to voicemail, so he leaves a quick, “where the hell are you? Am I about to get Punk’d? Is that still a thing that happens to people?” before he heads inside. He wonders for a moment if he should wait, but he’s already running a few minutes late (completely out of spite) and figures he probably shouldn't waste any more time.

Ten floors up and down two long hallways, Blake stops at the door and knocks. He’s checking his phone as the door swings open and before he even has a chance to look up, he hears, “you're late, asshole.”

“What the hell?” Blake says because Adam is standing in the doorway looking entirely too proud of himself, and Blake just doesn’t get it.

“I’m your 11 o’clock, Shelton, and you’re late,” Adam replies and reaches out to grip the front of Blake’s shirt, pulling him into the room, the door closing behind him.

“Help me out here because I am just…”

Adam grins, smug and pleased. “Remember when I asked you what you wanted for your birthday? Well, I found a way to give you the gift of time. From now until we're both needed back at the studio, you’re free.”

Blake can’t help but laugh a little because it’s usually his default reaction to most things, though he’s pretty fucking floored that Adam went through so much trouble just to get him alone for a few hours. “You planned all of this? I mean, you could’ve just come over.”

“Maybe,” Adam says with a shrug. “But this way you’re guaranteed zero interruptions. No one can bother you when you’re supposed to be working, right? As far as anyone else is concerned, you’re answering questions and posing prettily for the camera.” 

It seems so simple, would probably seem like nothing to anyone else, but it’s so incredibly thoughtful, Blake doesn’t even know what to say.

“I can’t believe you did this for me all because of a throwaway comment I made about wantin’ to be a lazy ass in the middle of the day. Are you stayin’ here with me?” Blake asks as he moves further into the room to flop down onto the overly large bed.

“Do you want me to?”

“It’d kinda suck if I was left here alone with not a damn thing to do.”

Adam grins, following him over to the bed. “You could always take that nap you were longing to have.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, Blake watches as Adam moves closer. “Naps are usually better if they’re earned, right? If you work for ‘em?” 

“Could be, maybe, depends on who you ask,” Adam says, slowly climbing up onto the bed, too, straddling Blake’s lap. “I can make you work for it, if you really want to.”

They both lean in for the first kiss, meeting in the middle. Blake lets his arms slip out from under him and lays back on the bed, slides his hands around Adam’s waist. It’s just getting good, really good, Adam’s body melting down against Blake’s fully, when a thought occurs to him. 

“Wait,” Blake says, breaking away with a gasp. “Is Usher in on this? Is this some kind of trick?”

Adam just blinks. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m just saying, is there some kind of sabotage happening here? I know you don’t have a dog in the fight, but…”

“Oh for god’s sake,” Adam says, a little peeved. “Yes, Blake, Usher paid me to come here and distract you with sex so he could somehow steal a victory while you least expect it. Do you even hear how completely stupid that sounds?”

“Well, I just had to check!”

“Remind me never to be nice to you again if all you’re gonna do is suspect an ulterior motive! I think I should take sex off the table for that, you dick.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Blake says, tightening his hold on Adam’s waist so he can’t move away.

“Yeah, you better be,” Adam says, poking a finger into Blake’s chest before he starts popping open buttons. “You’re fucking lucky tomorrow’s your birthday.”

“If I’m gettin’ this today, what do I get then?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.”


	28. Day Twenty Eight - Doing Something Ridiculous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “ _Mini golf_ , Blake. No one says putt putt anymore.”

“What the hell are you doin’?” Blake asks because Adam has been hunched over his laptop for a good while now. 

Adam just flaps a hand in Blake’s direction and continues scrolling, eventually types something quick and starts scrolling again. A few minutes later, he’s jumping up with a shouted, “a-ha!” and Blake is pretty sure he has lost a little bit of his mind to the computer screen.

“Are you done?”

Adam takes a minute to type something into his phone before he answers. “I am now. Put on some clean clothes, we’re going out!”

*** 

Blake understands that Adam can get a little bored at the ranch sometimes. Compared to LA, a town like Tishomingo is smaller than microscopic. All there is to do in town can be accomplished in an hour, tops, and the first time Adam stepped foot in the Dollar General, Blake felt the need to document the occasion by pulling out his phone and taking a picture. 

Thank god for the liquor store.

There’s very little to do is Blake’s point, so he gets Adam’s need to wander, to broaden his horizons and see what’s out there. But when they have been driving for an hour, Blake starts to get a little concerned. 

“Are we lost?” he asks, looking over at Adam behind the wheel of his truck. It’s another one of those sights to behold, really, he loves it so much, even if he did tease Adam about being able to reach the pedals. (“Fuck you, Sasquatch, I’m not that short!”)

“Nope.”

“Would you know it if we were?”

“…Probably not.”

Blake just laughs, looking back out the window. “Where the hell are we goin’?”

“You’ll know when we get there,” Adam says, checking the GPS on his phone to see how close they’re getting to the next turn.

They’re coming up on another half an hour on the road when Adam finally has their destination in his sights. “Oh hell yes!” He sits up straighter, flashes Blake a grin.

As soon as they’re parked and the engine has been turned off, Blake sits there and blinks. Even after Adam has his seatbelt off and door open, he still hasn’t moved. “Did you really… Seriously, did we just drive an hour and a half for putt putt?”

“ _Mini golf_ , Blake. No one says putt putt anymore.”

“Seriously?”

Adam rolls his eyes. “Yes, seriously. And if the closest place was two hours away, we would have driven two hours,” he says, hopping down out of the driver’s side door. “Now get your ass out of the truck, 18 holes of fun and excitement are waiting!”

“Fun and excitement for who?” Blake mumbles, following behind Adam.

When they get to the desk to pay for a round and get their equipment, they’re pretty sure the girl taking their money recognizes them. She keeps her cool though, and when she hands over their colored golf balls and clubs, Blake almost loses it.

“Is this for real? Are you serious with this? This thing was made for a toddler!”

Adam presses his lips together, trying his hardest not to laugh. “It’s not that bad, Blake. Come on.”

“Not that bad? It’s barely taller than my knees!”

Adam does laugh now, can’t even help it; Blake is ridiculous when he starts exaggerating, it’s honestly one of Adam’s favorite things because there are times when he ends up laughing until he’s crying, and Blake just looks at him like he’s crazy. He wraps his arm around Blake’s shoulders, steering him away from the desk and the terrified teenager.

“It’ll be fine. 18 holes and look,” Adam says, holding up their golf balls, “blue balls! The potential for jokes is endless, you should be so happy right now.”

“Yeah, yeah. Wait a second.” Blake turns back around, hollers to the girl behind the desk. “Hey, do y’all serve alcohol here?”

She blinks back at him for a second, has that deer in headlights look. “Um. No, sir…?”

“Dude, this is a family establishment.”

“Where the hell did you bring me?!”


	29. Day Twenty Nine - Doing Something Sweet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their first Valentine's Day as a real, official couple.

“Hey, so, here’s a question. What do you get a dude for Valentine’s Day?”

James spins around on his stool, turning to face Adam. “Uh? You’re a dude, what do you like to get?”

“Huh,” Adam says, thinking about that for a moment. “I don’t know. I don’t really care. Like… I feel like the whole thing is more for the ladies, and the guys are just there not really giving a fuck. Until we get to fuck. Right?”

James just shakes his head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Flowers are definitely out of the question.”

“Well, does he like flowers? Some dudes might.”

“Blake likes… Trees and dirt and weed and… camouflage.”

“So give him dead flowers. At least they’ll be the right color.”

Adam laughs. “Now who’s the idiot?”

“Still you. Are we going to rehearse today or spend the whole time talking about your love life?”

*** 

It would be their first Valentine’s Day is a real, official couple. They have never celebrated it before, never mentioned or acknowledged it as anything other than just another day. Adam feels like he should at least _ask_. He doesn’t want to ignore it and have Blake get him something, to be expecting something in return. 

It’s just so… _commercial_. It’s one of those things he’d rant about one day because it’s kinda gross and makes his skin crawl, only to contradict himself somehow, somewhere down the road by buying into the whole thing. He’s pretty good at that.

He stares at Blake sitting on the opposite end of the couch, eating a meal that _Adam_ prepared, he’s so proud of himself, until Blake finally glances his way.

“What? Do I have food on my face?”

Adam snorts softly. “No, you’re not wearing it. It’s good though? Really?”

“I’m eatin’ it, aren’t I?”

“That doesn’t always mean anything.”

“True. It’s good, Adam. Pretty soon I won’t have to step foot in the kitchen.”

“Hey now, let’s not get carried away here or anything,” he says, and Blake just laughs. “But I did kinda want to ask you about this weekend?”

“What about it?”

“Are we doing anything? Do you want to do something? Ordinarily I’d feel like it was a given, but…” Adam has no idea how to even end that train of thought properly, letting it fade out to silence.

“You don’t think I’d want to be wined and dined? What the hell, man?”

“We totally can, that’s why I’m asking, I want to make sure!”

Blake laughs again, setting his empty plate down on the coffee table. “It was a joke. As long as we’re hangin’ out and doin’ our thing, that’s all I care about. The rest doesn’t matter to me.”

*** 

It’s completely startling to walk into the room and be faced with a big, brown stuffed teddy bear sitting in the middle of their bed. The giant red heart it’s holding is even worse, but it isn’t until Adam gets a good look at what the heart says that he loses it. He snatches the bear up off of the bed and heads right back out of the room.

“All right, Shelton, where the hell are you?” he calls out as he makes his way back down the stairs. He can hear Blake laughing somewhere down the hall, finding him in the music room. “Are you fucking serious?”

Blake laughs harder, doubled over. “What, you don’t like it?”

“ _’Shit bitch you is fine’_?” Adam asks, starting to laugh now himself as he reads what is written on the heart.

“Well, it _is_ true,” Blake says. “And look, I even got you these.” He tosses Adam a bag of candy conversation hearts, grinning at the exasperated look he gets in return. “They’re tradition!”

“I thought we weren’t… Do you know how gross these things are?”

“I think it’s mostly the green ones that are nasty,” Blake says as he closes the distance between them. “The white and yellow ones are pretty good.” He rips open the bag and digs out a white one, holding it up so Adam can see the words _Kiss Me_ printed on it before he pops it into his mouth. 

Adam kind of wants to hit him because Blake does it on purpose knowing full well that Adam isn’t going to be able to resist, and he doesn’t, can’t resist at all. He hooks his arm up around Blake’s neck and presses their mouths together, the kiss slow and lingering, made sweet by the candy melting in Blake’s mouth. 

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” Blake says.

“Happy Valentine’s Day. I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

“This is all I wanted.”

Adam gives him a soft smile, dropping the stupid bear on the floor to search through the bag of candy for another _Kiss Me_ heart. As soon as he finds one, he shows it to Blake, slips it into Blake’s mouth before he’s chasing it with another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [The teddy bear in question](http://i.imgbox.com/xrNsyNmb.jpg).


	30. Day Thirty - Doing Something Hot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maroon 5's annual Halloween party. Cops and cowboys, oh my.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Adam's costume.](http://i.imgbox.com/g2sWhusO.png) Inspiration for [Blake's costume.](http://i.imgbox.com/ZtDJW2sh.jpg)
> 
> Made it with 15 minutes to spare! On the east coast, anyway.

The party is in full swing, has been for a good hour or more as far as Adam can tell. It’s the annual Halloween party thrown by the band, where all they’re really obligated to do is show up in costume and shake a few hands. It’s not like he’s planning to stay for very long, either; once the band performs they’re free to mingle and drink or make their way out to another party if they wish. That’s the thing about Halloween in LA – no shortage of people who want to out-do one another by dressing up and getting drunk. He figures he should be glad that his costume is comfortable, at least, just in case he does get stuck making small talk with people that he could care less about. Luckily, dressed as a scruffy, filthy cowboy makes it necessary to get very, very drunk. 

By the time the performance is done and over with, Adam finds himself pleasantly buzzed and contemplating getting the hell out of there. His only excuse for staying hasn’t shown up, and while he is usually all for enjoying a really good party, it’s the simple fact that he feels like he has been stood up that is sucking the fun right out of this one.

One more drink and then he’s gone, he thinks, making his way back to the bar. Adam is just throwing back a shot of tequila when he hears James calling his name from somewhere behind him followed by, “I found something you might be interested in seeing!” 

“What the fuck are you— _Whoa_.” 

Because when Adam turns around, he doesn’t see James at all. He only sees Blake. Blake dressed as a cop, his costume complete with hat and ridiculously sexy sunglasses, a pair of shiny handcuffs hanging from his black leather belt. If it wasn’t for the dimples and the tattoo on Blake’s arm, he could probably pass for the real thing, that’s how authentic the get up is. Well, minus the hat - the hat is just stupid, but Blake is making it look _stupidly good_ , if Adam is being honest.

The shot he just took goes straight to his head and his mouth feels a little dry and fuck, it’s really not fair that Blake can just waltz in here looking that drop dead gorgeous like it’s nothing. What an asshole. Adam licks his lips and pushes away from the bar, closing the distance between them. He can tell that Blake is trying his best not to smile, his lips twitching just slightly, but he fails when one corner of his mouth turns up in a small, amused smirk. Of course he’s amused, he always is, but Adam makes sure Blake can’t miss the way he is given a slow once over from head to toe, Adam’s eyes lingering on the patch of skin revealed at Blake’s throat, further down on the cuffs and the way Blake’s thumbs are hooked under his belt.

With only a couple of feet of distance left between them, Adam crosses his arms over his chest, gives Blake a smirk of his own when he says, “So… you here to arrest me, _officer_?”

He hears a few groans from people nearby, and while he will admit it wasn’t his best work, the line is enough to make Blake break into a full-blown grin.

“Terrible,” Blake says, reaching up to take off his sunglasses.

“Fuck you, I’m a little drunk and you surprised me.”

“Good surprise?”

“Awesome surprise. Why the hell are you so late? I didn’t think you were coming.”

Blake shrugs as he heads toward the bar for a drink. “I almost didn’t, not really my thing, I guess. But then I thought if I came late, I could just show up and put in a brief appearance, and then steal you away since you’ve already been here for a while.”

“But not until you’ve had your fill of the alcohol, right?” Adam asks, watching as Blake picks up the glass that’s set down in front of him. 

The look Adam gets in return makes him laugh, like there couldn’t possibly be a bigger idiot in the room right now for asking a question like that, and all Blake can say in response is, “it’s _free_.”

They make their way around the large ballroom packed full of people while Blake swallows down a couple of drinks, stopping to talk here and there, posing for a few pictures together and separately. Once the second glass is empty and they’re back where they started, Adam feels a hand on the back of his neck, two fingers against bare skin over the rag tied around his neck, and he swallows hard. Blake is suddenly in his personal space, which probably looks unusual to no one at all, and Adam’s breath catches.

“Can we get outta here now?” Blake asks, his mouth right next to Adam’s ear.

“Yeah,” Adam replies with a long exhale. 

Their exit is hasty and if anyone actually notices, they have no idea, nor do they care. Once they’re inside the car, Adam takes off his grungy cowboy hat, lets it rest on his knee. It does little to hide the bouncing of his leg, restless and anxious energy that he has nothing to do with until they get back to his house. Blake takes off his hat, too, and sits entirely too close; one of the perks about having transportation provided is that neither of them have to worry about driving, leaving them to focus on other things. Like the way their thighs are pressed together, and if Adam shifts just a little, their arms will be too, a solid line of heat along their sides. After a quick glance over at Blake, catching that heated gaze, Adam decides maybe he should focus his thoughts elsewhere until they get home, pressing the heel of his hand against the front of his pants and staring pointedly out the window for the duration of the drive.

*** 

At the house, Blake follows Adam inside; everything is quiet but the tension is there, crackling around them as they move from room to room. Adam makes it to the bedroom first and he’s just taking off his boots when Blake comes in, cup in hand. He still can’t get over how good Blake looks in that uniform, his mind completely blown by the whole thing. He’s leaning over to pick up his boots, to throw them toward the closet when he feels Blake suddenly right there, a solid presence behind him. 

Straightening back up, Adam licks his lips, takes a quick glance back over his shoulder. It sounds ridiculous in his head before he says it, but he can’t help it, it’s tumbling out of his mouth before he has a chance to stop it. 

“Are you gonna read me my rights?”

He hears Blake chuckle behind him, a deep, rich sound that he feels all the way in the pit of his stomach. Warm hands land on his shoulders a second later, squeezing before they reach for the knot holding the rag tied together around his neck.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Blake says, his breath hot against the back of Adam’s neck, and Adam bites down hard on his bottom lip. “Although,” Blake continues, stepping around to face him as he pulls the scrap of dingy fabric away, “if you do, I might be worried I’m doin’ something wrong.”

“So… I have the right to be anything but silent?” Adam asks with a slight smirk, his gaze shifting down to the cuffs on Blake’s belt for a moment. He brings a hand up, tracing the open V at the neck of Blake’s shirt until one of Blake’s own hands comes up, catching him around the wrist. A silent question passes between them when Adam raises his eyebrows and it’s then that Blake unhooks the cuffs from his belt, a metallic clink sounding when they touch instead of the softer click of plastic.

“Oh my god,” Adam says as soon as he hears that distinguishing sound, the realization hitting him hard. “Is that… Are you really going to use those on me?”

Blake shrugs a shoulder. “Depends. Do you want me to?”

Adam swallows hard. _Does_ he want Blake to? He thinks about that for a second, looks at the cuffs, and then at Blake’s face, his dick twitching in his pants. Yes, he thinks, yes apparently he does. He nods his head and Blake grins, slow and beautiful, just before he hooks one of the cuffs around Adam’s wrist. His arm gets twisted behind his back and before he knows it, both of his wrists are cuffed together, tight but not overly so. If he struggles against them, he’s going to have marks, and it doesn’t help that he has no fucking clue what Blake is thinking or planning on doing. He’s about to ask, to say, “so what now?” when one of Blake’s hands lands in the center of his chest and pushes just hard enough that he stumbles a little before he catches himself, taking the few steps backward until his legs hit the edge of the bed.

“Don’t move,” Blake says, stepping away to grab his cup from where he set it on the dresser. He takes a long, slow drink, keeps his eyes on Adam. As soon as he’s done, he tips his cup in Adam’s direction, an offer for a drink if he’s so inclined; Adam nods his head and Blake closes the distance between them again, brings the cup up to Adam’s mouth to let him drink. Once the cup is set safely aside, Blake just stands there for a moment or two, his gaze traveling along the length of Adam’s body, his arms crossed loosely over his chest. “What to do with you?”

Adam has a few ideas, could easily make Blake a list if he wants, but he doesn’t even get to voice one of them because Blake has seemed to figure it out for himself. He gets another hand to the chest, another push, and he lands on his back on the bed, his arms trapped beneath him. 

Blake stands between his spread legs where they hang over the edge of the bed, reaching to unbuckle Adam’s belt. Adam can tell he’s trying to play it cool, to take his time; the belt comes off slowly, Blake tossing it aside. He tackles the buttons on Adam’s shirt before touching the one on his jeans, followed by a slow tug of the zipper. 

“Do you have a plan?” Adam asks, his hips lifting slightly as Blake pulls his jeans down and off.

“What?”

“What you’re going to do.”

Blake flashes him a slight grin as he leans in, presses a warm, wet kiss to his stomach. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

It dawns on Adam, as he watches Blake sink down to his knees, that Blake is still in full uniform. And as Blake’s fingers hook under the waistband of his boxer briefs and tugs them down, he thinks he has a pretty good idea what’s about to happen. The first touch of Blake’s mouth on his cock has him cursing out loud because yeah, he was right, Blake is going to suck him off while dressed like a cop and Adam doesn’t even know what to do with that information. He doesn’t know why it’s such a fucking turn on, but it is, he can’t even begin to explain how hot it is. And it is so unbelievably frustrating that he has no use of his hands at the moment, he could scream.

Blake’s hands are hot like brands against his skin, one on his hip, the other on his thigh, his mouth even hotter as it glides along the length of his cock. It feels incredible, but he’s torn in two because while Blake’s mouth is amazing, everything else fucking sucks. (No pun.) He can’t move with Blake’s hands like a solid weight on him, can’t do anything with his arms trapped behind his back, has no leverage at all with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. And he knows, _he knows_ , Blake planned it this way on purpose, can tell by the why Blake is fighting to stay in control, to keep up his slow and leisurely pace because he wants to drive Adam as crazy as possible.

“Blake,” Adam spits out through gritted teeth, “this is cruel and unusual punishment, Blake! I _swear to god_ if you don’t start going any faster, I am going to punch you in the balls.”

Pulling back with a snort, Blake licks his lips, lets his hand take over for a moment. “I’d really like to see you try that right now. Go ahead.”

“I fucking hate you.”

“Want me to stop?” Blake asks, his grip tightening _just so_ that it makes Adam groan, his chest heaving.

“ _You know_ what I want.”

Blake’s eyes are dark, his thumb sweeping over the head of Adam’s cock before he’s closing his lips around it again. The slow drag down makes Adam think he’s back to playing the same torturous game, but no, Blake’s really going for it now, head bobbing, cheeks hollowed, lips wrapped perfectly tight. Adam looses his breath at the sight and the feel, and he wants to get his hands in that salt and pepper hair more than anything, goddamn it handcuffs suck. His wrists are aching, so are his shoulders, but the pain is doing nothing to extinguish the pleasure curling low in his belly, Blake is doing his damnedest to see to that. 

His whole world narrows to nothing but the hot slick slide of Blake’s mouth on his dick, the swirl of his tongue around the head, the way it feels when it hits the back of Blake’s throat. When Adam comes, he feels like he’s been punched in the stomach, losing his breath for a long moment as he rides out the waves. It isn’t until he’s coming back down that he realizes one of Blake’s hands is pressed flat against his belly, unsure of how long it’s been there. What he does know is that he’s done with the cuffs - those fuckers need to go.

“Blake, take ‘em off,” he says, making a weak attempt at rolling onto his side; Blake is there in an instant with the key, shifting him a little bit more so he can unlock the cuffs. 

“You good?” Blake asks as soon as they’re off, trying to get a good look at any damage done. The skin around Adam’s wrists is bright red in places, but it doesn’t look broken anywhere. He’ll have spotty bruises come morning time.

Adam takes a second to roll his shoulders out before he’s reaching for Blake, hauling him in for a kiss. It is deep and hungry from the word go, Adam tasting himself on Blake’s tongue, biting at his lips before diving in for more.

“And you’re still wearing that fucking uniform, _fuck_ ,” Adam says when the kiss eventually breaks, breathing hard.

“A little tired of wearin’ it now,” Blake admits.

“Mm, I think I’ll enjoy taking it off of you just as much as I enjoy seeing you in it,” Adam grins and gets to be the one to push Blake down this time, climbing up over him. “I hope you’re planning on keeping it, though.”

Blake laughs, sliding his hands over Adam’s shoulders and pushing his shirt off of them. “Seriously?”

“I am dead serious. You’re keeping it,” he says, grinding back against the bulge in the front of Blake’s pants. “With or without a questionable stain.”

“Adam,” Blake says with a groan, his hands gripping Adam’s hips.

“Keep it on when you fuck me, I have all the loaded weapon jokes.”


	31. Day Thirty One - A Happy Ending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _We're buzzing like that no vacancy sign out front_   
> _Your skin is begging to be kissed by a little more than the sun_   
> _You take my hand in yours, you lean in and your lips taste like sangria_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had this one written since pretty much the very beginning, I'm so happy I finally get to post it.

The Spanish sun has begun to set, dipping down low in the sky and sinking further with every passing minute. It paints a breathtaking picture beyond the straw hut that they’re seated beneath, and the darker the sky gets, the brighter the white lights strung around the bar shine. The heat of the day isn’t quite as stifling without the glaring rays of the sun bearing down on them, but the drinks are just as cold and refreshing. They’re not drunk, not quite yet, but they are on the right side of pleasantly buzzed and still going. 

“I want to bathe in this stuff,” Adam says as he drinks from his glass, the tang of tequila and citrus fruit sweet on his tongue. “I want to drink it every single day.”

Blake looks at him with an amused smile, his own glass sitting empty on the bar in front of them. “Don’t you already? Almost? The tequila part, anyway.”

“Well yeah, but no, it has to be _this_. I never would have tried this shit before, I mean, sangria? Who drinks that? But I’m going home and filling up our pool with this, just so you know. We’re going to swim like kings.”

Blake can’t help but laugh, digging a slice of orange out of his glass and eating the fleshy part off of the peel. “You’re a little drunk, Adam.”

“Psh, I’m allowed,” Adam replies and takes off his sunglasses. He squints a little even though the sun is practically gone now, then turns to face Blake fully, holding out his glasses. “Here, trade me.”

“It’s gettin’ dark out, you know,” Blake says as he takes off his own sunglasses and makes the exchange, hooking Adam’s pair into the open V in the front of his shirt.

“So?” Adam puts Blake’s glasses on and grins, draining the rest of his drink from his glass. As soon as he sets the empty glass aside, he leans into Blake’s space, nice and close, mischievous smirk in place. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

Blake’s gaze flickers down to Adam’s mouth, and it’s pure reflex that he licks his lips. The smirk morphs into a grin, and Adam reaches for his glass again, fishes out a sliver of lime and presses it to Blake’s lips, liquor and juice running down his chin as Blake bites down.

“Even more now,” Adam says and can’t stop himself, leans in and licks that trail of juice right off of Blake’s skin. He’s practically crawling into Blake’s lap before he pulls away. “Fuck, okay, we gotta go. Come on.” He slides off of his stool and holds his hand out, hooking their fingers together as soon as Blake takes it.

It’s a small miracle that they make it to their floor of the hotel before they stop trying to hold back, all but falling out of the elevator tangled together. Blake’s back hits the wall first, Adam’s mouth fused to his in a devouring kiss, the taste of tequila, wine, and fruit still fresh on their tongues. Hot hands slide under shirts and it takes a lot of willpower to get them moving again, a few more steps down the hallway before they’re stopping again, Adam getting pressed against a door on the opposite side this time. Blake kisses him like he’s starving for it, desperate and wanting and Adam is so willing to give him anything, everything. He already has. 

He can feel Blake fumbling with the door behind him and he laughs into the kiss, mumbles, “Blake, not our room,” before he’s lost in another kiss. He manages to pull himself away enough to say, “this isn’t our room, Blake,” and grabs for Blake’s hand on the door handle, fingers curled around his wrist.

“What the hell?” Blake asks and finally takes a look around, slightly dazed, clearly without enough blood in his brain.

Adam is laughing again, pushing Blake off of him so they can start moving again. “Could you imagine if someone had opened that door? God. It’d be like, oh hi I’m sorry, we’re on our honeymoon, can we borrow your room for a quick fuck? Thanks!” 

“You make it sound so filthy.”

Adam pushes him up against another door, the right one this time, tugging the keycard from Blake’s hand. “Oh, it will be,” he says and presses another kiss to Blake’s mouth as he unlocks the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it folks, the end of the road! Thank you so much to everyone that has been reading along. I appreciate every single one of you, you have no idea. 
> 
> Special thanks to Sandra for the hand-holding and cheerleading because god, I needed it. 
> 
> Special thanks to Lisa for helping me bounce around ideas - you helped me more than you probably know!
> 
> Who knows when/if I'll ever get another thing written (who am I kidding, I love these guys too much), but at least I'll be able to say hey, I did THIS THING and it was awesome.


End file.
